


T.H.O.M.A.S.

by MTriniSepulveda (WriterOfStories)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive (Emotional) Parents, Complete, Crap Parents, Have fun with this train wreck???, High School AU, M/M, Other, Patton and Virgil are brothers, Roman's half Puerto Rican, Tags May Change, There's swearing, also, big brother roman, have fun :), idk - Freeform, idk sue me :), it's just a nickname, no beta read, roman isn't a real prince, very cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-07-07 05:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 81,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterOfStories/pseuds/MTriniSepulveda
Summary: If stubbornness was a person, it'd be these four students. The four get roped into a rollercoaster of misadventures and odd friendships as they try to survive their teenage years, family problems, all while they try to save T.H.O.M.A.S.Patton just wanted to help one last time before graduating. Logan felt bad for him but never expected for it to go this far. Roman lied to his mom and, well, he couldn't backtrack now. Virgil... well, he just wanted to spend more time with his brother.Oh, what's T.H.O.M.A.S, you ask?Hmm, that's for you to read and for me to write.





	1. Roman Minett

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! My name's Trini and I'll be your Trash provider this evening. I don't... know what is this. I had been reading some stories here in AO3 and suddenly this idea popped. I don't know if it'll be good or not, it's still in process. Your help is always appreciated! 
> 
> Well... onto the story, I guess? 
> 
> Also, heads up: Roman's sisters used to have other names, and I changed them literally an hour ago. If you do find a name that hasn't been mentioned prior, it's because of that.

_ There was once a kingdom. It wasn’t your ordinary kingdom with an old traditionalist family, that story wouldn’t be worth telling. A dragon attacking, pain, despair… No. This story is different. This story is about a young King and his husband; they were a great duo in battl– _

 

“Wait!” shrilled Margarita springing to sit up in her bed, her bouncing copper curls jumping in all directions at the action. Her wide green-hazel eyes staring at him indignantly. “The king can’t have a  _ husband _ ! He needs a  _ wife _ ! A queen!” 

 

“Oh, be quiet, Mar!” Eliza sat up in her bed as well; her pin-straight copper hair didn’t do the same as the youngest sister’s did, but Eliza had always had an air of authority to her, one that everyone seemed to notice and instantly want to respect… Everyone but Margarita. Margarita was barely a year younger than Eliza, standing proudly at six years of age, and her only mission in life was to make Eliza boil with anger; nonetheless, the two were like glue. Always chatting between the two, snickering, mocking others… They were like the coal and the fire, purposeless without the other. “Why can’t he have a husband? Or a king? He’s perfectly capable of doing the same as a queen could.”

 

“Because Roman  _ promised _ that we would act this story for Mom! I wanted to be the Queen!” Roman just watched the interaction with a fond smirk pressed to his lips. He was sitting at the end of Margarita’s bed; sitting crossed legged, his back against the wall, and the book open on his lap. He had found the book on his pass through the library when he was looking for a science book he needed for his science homework. The cover had called his eyes, the summary had called his attention, and somehow –despite being a slow reader– Roman had managed to finish it in three days. Now, it was going to be the next bedtime story for the next week or so. “Why did you choose this one, Roman?” 

 

Sandra twisted and propped herself up with her elbow to look down at them from her bed. Eliza and Sandra shared a bunk bed; Sandra using the top bed as no one –not even Eliza herself– trusted the seven year old with tendencies of sleepwalking to be safe in the top bed. Sandra was ten, a few days shy from turning eleven and starting fifth grade soon. She was Roman’s carbon copy; the same straight less-coppery hair, the same wide bright eyes, the same stance, and posture on things. Even, her insults. “Take a guess, Queen Nails-on-Chalkboard.”

 

“Hey!” Roman exclaimed making Sandra shrug with a mischievous smirk. “Watch the insults, bed head.”

 

Sandra scoffed as she ran her hands through her hair, fixing any knot that created from her tossing and turning. “Just read, will you?”

 

“Of course, Princess Sandra, I shall do anything to serve you,” the youngest two sisters snickered at Roman’s salty response. The four were like stitches of a tight knit; the girls kept Roman grounded, they were something he could –had to protect. It was in his hands to keep them safe, to make sure they got the same childhood he once got, and that not one single day would they need to worry about anything that a child shouldn’t worry about. And he protected them. He wasn’t ‘Roman’ to them. He was ‘Prince Roman’ or ‘Roman the Brave Knight’! The one who could vanquish beasts and demons by entering the room. That could cast away any witch’s spell with a simple hug. They were his everything and he was their everything. “And can’t a prince like me have a boyfriend?”

 

“You’re not a king!”

 

“I will be, one day!” Margarita narrowed her eyes into thin slits before she lied back down, bringing up her blankets up to her chin, her hand appearing briefly and waving at him as if to say ‘proceed’. Roman chuckled and straightened his back again. He continued reading, making voices for every character and acting every scene. 

 

_ They sprinted through the thick forests roots, jumping and diving between branches and roots. The others couldn’t be falling much more behind; Leo thought of turning to look behind, but a tug in his hand reminded him that was the most foolish and absurd idea, especially when the first  _ “Oh, hey, Mamá.”

 

Helena Minett smiled fondly as her three daughters snapped their heads to look at her in surprise. “What time is it?” asked Roman. Time had flown by. Usually he had finished reading bedtime stories by the time their mother, Helena, arrived home from work. 

 

“It’s  _ past your bedtime _ time,” Roman chuckled at his mother’s sass and closed the book, much to the girls’ complaints. He set it down in the old bedside table by the lamp –an old ceramic one with a slightly cracked screen– before he jumped up to his feet. “C’mon, he can read you tomorrow some more.” 

 

“No! We  _ need _ –to know what… what happens with Leo! And, and, and we  _ need _ to meet… his boyfri–boyfriend,” Margarita spoke between yawns, her eyes getting heavier the more she buried herself in the cocoon of blankets she had wrapped herself in. Roman nodded and ruffled Sandra’s hair slightly before turning off the light and slipping away from the room through the narrow hall between the beds. 

 

“How was work?” Roman smiled at his mother as he walked past her towards the small cramped kitchen. 

 

“Which one? Number one, two, or three?” she joked as she sat down in one of the breakfast bar stools. The bar was the only thing separating the kitchen from the small living room. Roman turned to look at his mother with a resignated face, “No, Roman. No.”

 

“You’re working three jobs already, Mamá.” He sighed heavily as he offered her a glass of much needed water. “I’m only working one, and only three days a week! I could perfectly fit in another one!” 

 

“No.”

 

“C’mon, many kids my age are working two jobs,” for a great actor, Roman was a terrible liar. His voice would get too high pitched, too stammery. Helena looked at Roman tiredly with a pointy eyebrow-lift. “Ok, they’re not, but I can handle–”

 

“No, Roman. You’re already paying your sisters’ babysitter when you should be buying yourself things…”

 

“Mamá,” Roman sat in a stool in front of her and grabbed on of her hands tenderly, “I don’t care, alright?”

 

With her free hand, Helena rubbed the spot between her eyebrows, a clear sign of a brewing headache. It wasn’t the first time Roman had offered taking a second job, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time. But Roman knew better than pressing the subject while Helena had a headache. It’d do him as much good as talking to a wall –not even, the wall was more prone to giving in to his offer. Roman was known for being stubborn, and well, he  _ had _ to get it from somewhere, didn’t he? 

 

He caressed his mother’s cheek before pulling her into a hug. She was still young, yet her light coppery hair was getting peppered with white hairs more and more every day; there were always bags underneath her eyes and she had wrinkles by her eyes and forehead. Life had played her some bad cards in life; one too many bad cards. And Roman knew it perfectly well as she sobbed into his chest. He kept whispering reassuring and calming things as he ran a soothing hand down her hair, at least until she could speak between sniffs and hiccups. These little shows never happened during the daytime, it was always when the girls were behind closed doors. 

 

“I’m s’ s’rry yo’ had t’ gr’w up s’ quickly. Yo’ sh’ldn’t w’rry of things like th’s…” 

 

“It’s alright, I am a Prince after all, it’s what princes do!” he joked managing to get a grin and a chuckle out of his hiccup-y mother, “rescue damsels in distress and be awesomely handsome?”

 

“I’m–” Helena sniffed and wiped her tears, “I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, Ro.”

 

“I was raised by the best woman,” he whispered as if it was a secret only the two of them should know. No much later he sent his mother to bed; they were going to have an early start the next day, they all would. First day of school. 

 

Eliza was joining Sandra in her elementary school; Margarita was starting kinder; and Roman was starting his Sophomore year in high school. There’d be less babysitter hours to pay, which meant less stress about making month’s end. Everything would be fine, everyone was fine. 

 

Roman was fine.

 

——————

Turns out, waking up three girls with an attitude for the first day of class didn’t get easier with the passing of the years. If anything, it was only getting harder. Roman woke up at an ungodly hour to get ready (he  _ had _ to look good for school, he had a reputation to maintain) so, after he was done with his little routine, he started waking up his mother. Helena went directly to start preparing breakfast while Roman went to the girls’ bedroom. 

 

“Touch me and I’ll ninja-kick you so hard, you won’t go to school for three weeks,” and apparently Sandra’s threats didn’t get any lighter at six thirty in the morning. Roman heard the other two snicker softly before turning around and keep sleeping. 

 

“Well, alright, I’ll tell Mamá to cook her special eggs just for me then…” he tried tempting them with a sing songy voice. 

 

“Who cares?” Well, there goes that plan. He was running out of ideas and time; he needed to get to school soon so he could talk to the baseball coach about the upcoming practices before school started. They were so close to the end of the season.

 

“Ok, listen, you can sleep in thirty minutes more but when Mamá comes to wake you up, you get up,” he ordered knowing fairly well that they were listening. They had attitude but they didn’t go back to sleep that easily, “and I’ll see you later today, alright?” He simply couldn’t wait for them. Another day, surely, but not today. He was in a bit of a hurry. 

 

Almost in unison three heads popped from between the blankets and were looking at him with wide eyes. “Wait, you’re not dropping me off for my first day of school?” asked Eliza with a trembling lip. Roman had been the one to drop Sandra off her first day of first grade even though he was already in middle school. Eliza and Sandra were always talking about wanting the same. They knew Helena couldn’t do it, so they wanted Roman to see them off. It broke his heart knowing that they would rather see him than their mother, but Helena always dismissed it saying that he ‘earned’ that privilege. 

 

“If you don’t hurry up, I can’t.” It didn’t take a single second more for the three to rush. If one of the three didn’t hurry, Eliza wouldn’t be dropped off by Roman, meaning it would be their fault. So they worked as a team; Roman left the room and they quickly got dressed with the pre-elected clothes. The five ate breakfast together and soon enough Helena was leaving with Margarita for Kinder and Roman was leaving with Sandra and Eliza for Elementary school. 

 

As they arrived, Sandra gave both a quick hug and a ‘good luck’ fist bump to her little sister before disappearing into the mass of people, probably trying to find her friends. Eliza fidgeted in her spot; for someone who had the confidence and attitude of Eliza, this wasn’t normal. “You okay?” Roman kneeled down beside her.

 

“Yeah, yeah… What if they don’t like me?”

 

“Pfft, don’t be silly,” Roman scoffed as Eliza looked down at her own hands, “they’ll love you. Everyone loves a princess, Eliza.” Eliza smiled timidly to her brother before throwing herself at him, her little arms wrapping around her brother’s neck. Roman chuckled as he regained his balance and hugged her back. 

 

Two people zoomed past them in bicycles before she let go. “Now, go show them who’s the boss, Eliza.” 

 

Eliza smirked and walked into the school. Once she was out of sight, Roman checked his watch and did a quick math in his head. If he ran, he’d still have time. So, being one of the best runners in the baseball team finally paid off for something; he ran as fast as he could and, without a doubt, managed to arrive early. There wasn’t a lot of people at school yet; and those who were there were enjoying the outside before entering the hell hole known as High School. 

 

Roman would be among them if he didn’t have to talk to Coach K. He easily ran through the familiar hallways before he arrived at Coach K’s office. Besides being the coach for baseball, he was also the Computer Aided Design’s teacher.

 

“Ah, Minett!” he called out as Roman popped into the computer-filled classroom, also the coach’s office. “Thought you wouldn’t show up,” he chuckled as he stood up and walked towards Roman. Roman wasn’t short –considering he was only sixteen. They were expecting him to have a growth sprout soon (and so was he, as being 5’7 isn’t exactly ideal when his teammates were all roughly 5’10). But he was certainly a dwarf compared to the 6’3 coach whose arms were about as thick as Roman’s head. Though being a muscle-y giant, Coach K was a sweetheart. He was caring, kind, and treated each and every member of his team as his sons. 

 

“Well, then you don’t know me,” Roman joked, ignoring the thoughts brewing in his head.  _ He had almost been late _ . If he wanted to help his family out and grow out of the state they were in, Roman couldn’t afford to be late to anything. It’d build a bad name for him, and those are hard to get rid off.

 

“C’mon, the school’s still empty, let’s walk around… plan where to put the posters,” Coach K grinned happily. 

 

“Can I say you look ten times happier than last week’s practice?”

 

“Well, you can’t tell anybody yet –not even the team– but my wife’s pregnant!” he whispered as he leaned down slightly to tell Roman. He couldn’t help but feel happy for the two. Roman had always been the Coach’s favorite; he had met his wife, J’Nale, and had been over for dinner as well. Coach was, also, the only one to know about his situation at home; just for the sake that if things got too bad, he’d have at least an outsider to give him ideas about what to do. 

 

“Congratulations! That’s excellent news!” 

 

“Yeah…” Coach K grinned excitedly. It was funny to see the giant man so happy.

 

The two continued to talk for about ten minutes, walking around the school in a full circle while doing so. They were arriving back to the coach’s office as there were only ten minutes left for school to start –and the halls were significantly busier– when they noticed a poster hung up in the walls nearby. The coach pointed at it with a sad chuckle. 

 

“That’s sad,” he tapped the poster slightly as Roman read through it, “I heard Kimms –you know the theater-lover math teacher?– was trying to save T.H.O.M.A.S.”

 

“Save?” Roman asked though his eyes were still looking through the poster.  _ Theatrical and Historic Organization for Modern Alliances of Students (T.H.O.M.A.S.) _ read the title. He had heard something at the end of the year the prior year; something about that ‘shockingly’ they hadn’t won the competition. He had thought that ‘Thomas’ was a person, not the name of the organization. 

 

“Yeah, Pederson–” the principal, “doesn’t want to spend more time or money on it so he’s given Kimms two weeks to get a group interested enough to actually do it.” 

 

_ T.H.O.M.A.S. competes with other schools through presenting a play by the end of the year. The money collected by tickets will be donated to scholarships for those who need it for a higher education.  _

 

“They’ve lost for thirteen years now –just as long as it has existed in this school.” Coach K mentioned as Roman finally looked away from the poster. There was no way the math teacher the coach mentioned would get enough people interested in the club (organization? thing?). Less within the first fourteen days of school where students are just remembering how hellish school is. 

 

“Do we really suck at theater that much?” chuckled Roman making the coach laugh as well. 

 

“Look around, Roman,” he threw his arms around, as if motioning him to actually look around, “we’re a science school, not theater. We’re lucky the school has sports teams.”

 

Whyte was known for being mainly science based; art clubs didn’t last long and it was surprising the theater club had been going on for thirteen years. Those who wanted the artsy school would go to Oube, literally across the street, and while Roman was indeed more artsy than science-y, he had always been a sucker for science. At high school, he could study science to a basic level, no need of commitment. But after high school, whatever he studied had to be his number one passion. So, when choosing with Helena what high school he’d go to, Roman decided to go to Whyte and after high school to study something art-related. He was going to go to college, no matter what. Of course he was part of Whyte’s mandatory theater club and class; if there was one thing that truly passionates him, it was theater. He had easily got the leads for all four plays the year before (oh, how the Seniors had hated him).

 

“Hmm, it’s still sad, isn’t it?’

 

“It is, T.H.O.M.A.S. had great potential if someone truly passionate did it.” 

 

After that the two carried on towards the office and talking about baseball; T.H.O.M.A.S. was nothing but a mere memory pushed back in his mind. Yet still there.


	2. Virgil Sanders

By the time the day ends, Virgil’s sleeve would probably be so thin it’ll be see through. He hadn’t slept almost at all the night before and had struggled to get out of bed. He had been twisting and untwisting the sleeve of his black hoodie enough for his brother to notice and worry. He hated making Patton worry; he already gave up enough for him. Virgil was counting the days until Patton realized how much he hated Virgil… he started counting after second grade’s first day of school and nothing had happened yet. 

 

“It’ll be great!” Patton tried to cheer him up as he chained his bicycle to the bicycle parking stands. Virgil had yet to hop off his. He was just staring up at the two-story high brick building; his stomach knotting itself even further. Middle school had been one thing, one very painful and slow thing, but high school? Oh, no. Virgil was not ready for High School.

 

In middle school everyone’s changing, all the time. It was alright to stand out because everyone else was standing out (which then of course, would make it not standing out, but that’s an endless thought Virgil could not give in at the moment). No one had spared him a glance. But high school? In high school people had their minds together (ish), the kinds of friends mattered, and they judged everyone. Virgil was not going to survive high school. 

 

“Virge, Virge, Virge,” Patton poked his arm. Patton was one of the few who were allowed to touch him, and even then  they knew he was more comfortable when he wasn’t being touched. Patton must have noticed how near an anxiety attack his younger brother was as Virgil turned to look at him with wide brown crystalized eyes and an uneven breathing pattern, “breathe, Virge, do your exercises.” 

 

“I–I can’t… I…” he still tried though. He began to panic more and more as the exercises weren’t working and Patton had to step in. He wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders and pulled the younger boy in for a hug. Patton wasn’t that tall, he was average considering his age, but Virgil was still short so he was in perfect place to hear Patton’s steady heart beat. He tried matching his breathing with it and the slowing it down into a normal breathing pattern. “They’re going to hate me.” 

 

“No, they won’t,” Patton let go of him and tilted his head slightly to meet Virgil’s eyes, he then smiled at Virgil, “don’t worry too much.”

 

“Do–Did you just tell me to not worry?” 

 

“Hey,” Patton grinned letting go of his shoulders, “I made you think of something else and what’s that that I spy? Ah, yes, a smile!” 

 

Had it not been for height difference, one might have thought Virgil was the older brother. He was by far more mature (more anxious and overthinker really), and serious (scared), and didn’t behave as childishly (until he got comfortable). But, childish and all, Patton always managed to calm him down and make him smile. He didn’t know what he was going to do next year, after Patton graduated and left for college.

 

“Look, Virge,” Patton leaned against his bike as Virgil hopped off his, slowly as if he could delay the inevitable, “I know you’re scared, but you’re not alone. You have me, and you have–”

 

“Just one of the best bitches of the universe!” a leather-wrapped arm was wrapped around Virgil’s shoulders; a familiar one that didn’t make him flinch or scatter away. “Girl, I have missed you in school so much! High school was  _ soo _ boring…” Virgil noticed Patton biting his tongue down. 

 

He hated when Remy talked like that, especially the swearing. Patton was not one to like swear words. Virgil doubts he has ever said one in his entire life. But Patton liked Remy, mainly because he was Virgil’s best friend, but because the two would go together to get the most sugary drink they could get at Starbucks. 

 

Remy was a year older than Virgil; he had started high school while Virgil had to go through eighth grade alone and made… some stupid mistakes at the time… but now the two were back to being together in school. Maybe he could survive high school.

 

“So, we don’t have a lot of classes together, girl.” Nevermind, Virgil was going to die. “But we do share three, which is a  lot comparing to what I share with other… friends.” Patton tried to not laugh at that. Remy, though he hated to admit it, wasn’t exactly good at making friends just like Virgil; they met in Kinder and never left each other’s side again. They went to the same elementary –Virgil and Patton’s parents had to ask for a transfer and drive ten extra minute every day for five years–, they went to the same middle school, and now the same high school. If they were lucky, they were going to go to the same college as well. 

 

Patton had been the one to help out Remy during his Freshman year, and without him, Remy would’ve crashed and burned. Virgil would have a day field hearing stories from both of them about something that happened at school; oh, those were the nights he loved the most. Unlike those riddled with overthinking and self-hate. Those two, as much as they fought sometimes, were each other’s grounding rocks. 

 

_ He’ll hate you when he learns about your mistake _ , Virgil quieted his mind, forcing the thought into the back of his mind, very aware that it’d resurge later at night. But for now, he needed to be calm, he was about to start high school.

 

Oh no.  _ Virgil _ was about to start  _ high school _ . 

 

It hit him like a bag of bricks. His throat got an awkward tightness to it, like he was fighting against himself to close it. His hands got clammier and his eyes started prickling as if a thousand needles were nestled behind his eyes. It was just plain awful. But Remy’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders was enough to ground him. 

 

“I would offer to ditch today,” Patton whispered, “but it’s the first day.” 

 

Patton was willing to do anything for Virgil, even the things he hated the most. Like ditching school. He was sure that if he needed it, Patton would say a swear word for him. And Virgil hated having so much power over his brother; Patton was too good for this world. So while Patton looked over him, Virgil promised to himself that  _ no matter the situation _ , he’d protect Patton. From anything or anyone. 

 

“Well, Kiddo! I have to go,” Patton announced bouncing back to his feet with his happy-go-lucky attitude of always. Virgil panicked for a split of a second, Remy sipping his Starbucks by his side, “don’t worry, you have Remy with you! And he’ll take care of you just as fine. I’ll meet you here by the end of the day, alright?”

 

Virgil nodded. Patton gave each a short well-meant hug, before he bounced into the school entrance, greeting about every single person that crossed him. 

 

 _Pathetic. They have to take_ ** _care_** _of you. You’re usele–_

 

“So, what do you wanna do? Bounce or give it a shot?” Remy asked now looking down at Virgil, peering through the top of the big sunglasses he wore. Virgil’s lips were itching with the word ‘bounce’. His Fight or Flight instinct was working hard at the moment; every fiber in him told him that he should flee. Run away as far as possible and never come back. But the other part of him, a smaller one that sounded a lot like his brother, was saying ‘stay’. 

 

Following that single fiber of courage, Virgil stuttered out, “Give… give it a shot.”

 

Remy hadn’t expected that answer but was still content with it. _He thought the worse of you_ , no. That was the fear talking. Remy knew exactly how Virgil was constantly going against his instincts of fleeing. The first time he witnessed Virgil overcoming his anxiety, if for a brief second, was when he got between Remy and some other kid in third grade. Without a single stutter in his words, Virgil had creatively insulted the kid away. _Dude,_ Remy had said afterwards _you can_ _be so scary when defending someone… It’s one of the many things I admire of you_ , Remy had added a few seconds later when Virgil helped him off the ground. Of course, still being the anxious kid he is, he had a panic attack right after that, thinking that the other kid was going to tell on him or come back for vengeance. Neither happened. 

 

That was one of Virgil’s favorite memories, the one he used to calm himself down when nothing else could. “Well, then, shall we go inside?”

 

Every piece of that fiber of courage dissipated almost instantly. “Bounce, I changed my mind, I want to bounce.”

 

What made their relationship work so fine after so many years of knowing each other, it was how they knew exactly what the other really wanted. And, at the moment, Virgil wanted to get rid of his fears. “Nope.” With that, Remy almost dragged Virgil into the school.

 

\--------

Dinner that night was… silent. Whether or not should that send Virgil spiraling down into more doubts and fears, it did. He couldn’t help but feel that something was about to go horribly wrong any minute now. 

 

_ Maybe they’re angry, but at what? Patton and I have been good. We have, haven’t we? Maybe I did something to upset them. Of course. It’d be the only logical reason. It has to be my fault… but why? What did I do? Maybe I took too long to get up in the morning? No, we left thirty minutes earlier… maybe it was because it took us so long to come back home after school… my knee got caught up with the pedals. They’d understand that right? No. Why would they. It was a mistake. I should’ve avoided the pedal. I could’ve been home earlier and _ —

 

Virgil felt a slight nudge on his knee from in front of him. He raised his eyes from his plate to find the three staring at him. Someone must have asked something while he was lost in thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

 

“Virge?” he stopped himself from cringing at the nickname coming out of his parents’ mouths. Especially his mother’s. “Honey, what’s wrong?” 

 

“N-nothing,” he wanted nothing more than to sink down and become one with the chair. That’d be physically impossible, but he still wished he could. He didn’t like the stares on him. Patton knew this so he went back to looking down to his own plate. 

 

“It’s just you’ve barely touched your food, dear,” she explained with concern laced into her voice.  _ Great job, idiot.  _

 

“Oh, I was… I just— just thinking of school…” Patton’s eyes snapped up to his little brother, hiding perfectly well the fear behind them. At the same time, Virgil cursed in his mind. He  _ shouldn’t  _ have mentioned school. 

 

“Oh, right!” Exclaimed their father with enthusiasm, “how was your first day, boys?” 

 

Patton took control almost immediately and Virgil thanked him internally eternally. He didn’t want to talk about school, at all. He knew it’d start a fight. If someone was capable of shutting up Mr. Sunshine Patton, it was their parents, so imagine what effect they had on the youngest Sanders. Patton didn’t dislike many people, so the list was short enough for Virgil to know it by memory, and his parents had the pleasure of being there in that list —right at the top. 

 

And Virgil hated them for that. They had treated Patton so badly during their childhood, so so badly (though it never got physical thankfully), and never apologized for it. Yet Patton still managed to be a happy-go-lucky guy all the time. He was Virgil’s hero without a doubt.

 

Patton was their mother’s favorite —ironically, the one of the family that spent less time at the house than anyone else. She was a workaholic. An architect who helped re-designed the town from scratch. The town was her third and better child. She spent almost every waking moment with it. But Virgil never cared about that; he knew Patton was jealous of this third child when he was younger, and he knew how much it affected Patton’s way of thinking. Virgil had never expected his parents to care about their failed son; hell, not even Virgil cared about Virgil. But Patton was their first born, perfect in every sense. Yet he was thrown aside for that third child. 

 

Sure. Patton was his mother’s favorite between the two. But between the three children, Patton was the runner up that lost by a landslide. And his big brother deserved better than that, so Virgil was not fond of the woman. 

 

“... and I met these two Sophomores today that are trying to start a petting session club, like, they’ll bring cats and dogs so I  _ had _ to join them.” 

 

“That’s nice, sweetie.”  _ That’s nice, sweetie _ was enough to shut Patton up. Virgil looked up from his plate and noticed that Patton had started to play with his food again. Their father had gone back to his phone; ‘it’s work’ he’d say. “What about yours, Virge?” 

 

He had been listening to Patt’s story and it seemed much more interesting than his anxiety-filled day. Remy had helped him out here and there but that was it. “I… I met, uh, with Remy.”

 

“Oh?” their father hummed with disdain, “that kid still in school? I thought he already dropped out.” 

 

Another soft kick landed on his calf as a reminder to bite down his tongue. Their parents didn’t like Remy. At all.  _ A good for nothing  _ they had called him on various occasions. 

 

“No, he’s… he’s still at, at school.” Virgil stuttered out. 

 

It was the weirdest feeling their parents gave. The two were looking elsewhere, everywhere but at Virgil, yet it felt like they were staring at him hard enough to drill a hole on his head. He hated the feeling. It made an uncomfortable weight settle down in the back of his throat and a pressure in his chest. 

 

Their mother huffed and rubbed her temple. “That’s your fault.” She said pointedly towards her husband. 

 

_ His fault?  _

 

“What did I do now, Margaret?” grumbled out the father as he sat back. Virgil closed his eyes and counted his breaths; this meant one thing only. 

 

“Your son can’t speak without a stutter! Can’t do anything on his own, hell, he’s as useless as you!” 

 

And there it was. That’s what he had been fearing it’d happen. It was inevitable but he had still thought that maybe just once they’d have a dinner without them fighting or someone pointing out his flaws. Just once. 

 

After their mother’s words the two began to fight, the tone slowly rising into a full-on yelling fight. Patton picked up his and Virgil’s still somewhat filled plate (he wasn’t that hungry as always) and took them to the kitchen before returning. 

 

“Virgil and I have homework, so, we’ll…” the parents weren’t listening. They were too focused on their fighting. Rather nasty insults flying both ways. The two brothers left them to their own and went to Virgil’s room. 

 

His room was exactly what you’d expect. Mostly black, with accents of white and purple. There was a Nightmare Before Christmas poster, the only thing hinting towards Virgil’s obsessive love for Disney (the thing he loved the most was pointing out the darker meanings). 

 

Patton plopped down on Virgil’s bed leaving enough space for Virgil. The youngest watched as the oldest looked at the glowing stars on the ceiling; there were thousand little dots and hundreds of big stars. He had placed them like the real constellations, a desperate measure when their parents’ fighting got too bad. He would look up to those little stars and imagine he was somewhere else. 

 

Virgil stood by his closed door as if he was a stranger to his own bedroom. His body shook as he wrapped an arm around himself; he couldn’t help but feel like everything that was said at the dinner table was right. He was a failure. He was… God, he couldn’t talk without stuttering. His day had been riddled with anxiety. He couldn’t remember half of the things that were said in his classes. He was going to fail school, though where’s the surprise? He was a fail and that was it. His parents knew it, his classmates would know it soon, even Patton knew it! That must be why Patton barely spent time at home. Why would anyone want to spend time with someone like him? A failure? It could rub off on them and they’d become failures as well and—

 

“-rgil? Virge what’s wrong, kiddo?” Patton was propping himself up with his elbow and looking at him. “Come here.” 

 

Virgil walked towards his bed and sat down by Patton, looking down at his fidgeting hands. Almost as if Patton had lived his whole life with Virgil, he knew exactly what Virgil was thinking about. 

 

“Whatever they said at dinner was not true, Virge,” Patton sat up and sat beside him. “You’re amazing, and unique—”

 

“But my anxiety—”

 

“But your anxiety nothing. It’s part of who you are,” Patton smiled at him before bumping his shoulder with Virgil’s, “it’s what makes you, you. I know this, Remy knows this. The ones who matter know this.” 

 

That was more of a sad thought than a reassuring one. There were only two people in his life that cared about him, and it wasn’t even his parents. But did he really need his parents when he had people like his brother and best friend in his life? Maybe it was time to step out of that comfort bubble because it wasn’t doing him any good; and it was going to be scary. But high school’s scary already, so it wouldn’t make much difference. 

 

“Thank you…” 

 

“But?”

 

“But you’ll leave.” Patton frowned down at his brother confused. Patton was eighteen already, he was one of those who have their birthdays days before school starts. He could leave and never come back if he wanted. “You’re eighteen and Mom and Dad treat you like garbage. You can get out of here!”

 

“But I won’t,” Patton grinned fondly, confusing Virgil even further, “I won’t leave you alone with them. Once I finish school, we’ll get out of here. Together.” 

 

Virgil’s lip trembled dangerously before he threw himself at Patton, hugging him tightly. Virgil wasn’t one to start physical contact, but there were times —precious moments— where he did. 

 

After that the two simply lied down on the bed and looked at the ceiling. They talked about Virgil’s first day of school, Patton calmed some of his fears, and then they played around with the stars on the ceiling. Who ever could find the silliest constellation would win.

 

—————

 

The next three days of school weren’t as bad as Virgil had imagined them to be. In all honesty, they were actually fine, simply because of the thought of leaving at the end of the year. He’d get to leave his fighting parents behind without a problem. 

 

Then, of course, his mood turned sour as the excitement of the idea dissipated. He still loved his parents —no matter how much he also hated them— and he felt bad. It felt like this plan would hurt them. Or even worse, they wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want to leave them, he loved them despite all the insults he usually got. But at the same time, he didn’t want to keep living with them. It was all too confusing.

 

He was walking through the sea of people —why did they have to be so many students? It was making him uncomfortable— with Remy by his side, chatting Virgil’s ear off about some arrogant customer he had to serve at work. Who orders pasta at a café?!

 

His hood was up and his bangs were working as a shield against the world. He chuckled at Remy’s grumbling and under the breath cursing when they crashed against someone. 

 

“Oops, sorry!” A cheerful voice apologized, Virgil lifted his eyes from the floor and met with a boy much taller than both of them who wore a brown cardigan and a light blue tie. “I wasn’t looking where I was goin— Virgil!” Of course, Virgil knew that light blue tie way too well. 

 

“’Sup.” 

 

“How are you doing today?”

 

Virgil shrugged but it was enough of an answer for him. Emile Picani was Patton’s best friend since the beginning of Sophomore year. He had met Emile a couple of times, but it would be usually Patton going to his house than the other way around. 

 

“That’s great, it’s better a shrug than a bad,” oh, that was the other thing he shared with Patton: both were disgustingly positive. “Well, have you seen your brother? I’ve been looking for—” before he finished talking, someone had engulfed him in a hug. Speaking of the devil. 

 

“Emile!”

 

“Patton!” 

 

Remy and Virgil shared a look and a shudder before they smirked slightly. Neither was fond of the whole touching thing or the cheerful 24/7 thing. 

 

“Look what I found, look!” Patton almost shoved a paper in Emile’s face. 

 

“Theatrical and Historic Organizations for Modern Alliances of Students.”

 

“Theater?” Remy asked after Emile read the title out loud. Virgil bit his lower lip softly as he watched his brother excitedly nod. Patton, while he loved the theater, never liked acting. This was another excuse to not be home, of course Patton would take it. 

 

“Yes! Theater! And listen—” he pointed at a point in the paper for Emile to read. 

 

“ _ The money collected by tickets will be donated to scholarships for those who need it for a higher education _ .”

 

“It’s also charity! We could be helping as well!” 

 

Remy scrunched up his nose, “Sorry, not for me… besides I have work.” Remy worked at a café called  _ Tiwts _ everyday after school, it was his only way of not driving his parents insane with his never-sleeping-never-stopping antics. 

 

“And I have too much homework,” Emile shrugged sadly, “not  _ all _ of us gets to be a genius without trying,” he joked poking fun at Patton. Patton was a on his way to being the Valedictorian of his class; he had perfect grades, had done so many hours of charity that the school had asked him if he was alright, and he had led a few clubs in the last three years. 

 

“Ha ha,” Patton rolled his eyes in a friendly manner before he turned to Virgil with a smile, “what about you, Virge?” 

 

On one hand, he could spare himself the almost inevitable embarrassment, on the other hand it’d mean more time with Patton and more hours away from home. “Sure.” 

 

Patton squealed as Remy turned to his best friend in surprise. “Alright! I’ll see you later you all,” and with that the eldest disappeared into the sea of people, dragging Emile behind him. Emile waved at the two with a chuckled before following the excited Patton. 

 

“Asked a question in class  _ and _ joined theater…” Remy mentioned, “who are you?” 

 

“Ha ha ha,” Virgil answered dryly and sarcastically. 

 

“But seriously, speaking of who is who,” Remy waved his almost empty Starbucks (how long did those last? It was almost the end of the school day?) “who was  _ he _ ?”

 

“My brother?”

 

Remy sighed and clicked his tongue, hitting Virgil’s temple softly with the Starbucks cup. “Not Patton, the other guy.” 

 

“Emile?” Remy nodded as he looked towards where the two Seniors had left. Virgil frowned and scrunched up his face, “Oh, gross.” 

 

“What?”

 

“You liked him? Emile Picani?” 

 

Remy shrugged before his face fell; he lifted his glasses and placed them on top of his hair. “I think I have a type,” he whispered like it was a disgusting secret. 

 

“You did like Patton on middle school,” smirked mischievously Virgil. Oh, this was great teasing material. Remy hit him with the cup again before sliding his sunglasses back on. 

 

“We do not speak of those dark ages, Virge.”

 

“You liked Emile, it was your fault.” The cup hit him again, slightly harder this time, enough to make him chuckle. 

 


	3. Logan Oxford

“ _ Her voice had lowered itself, and I saw Blunt turn and look at her, bringing his eyes back from (apparently) the coast of Africa to do so. He evidently put his own construction on her change of tone, for he said, after a minute or two, in rather an abrupt manner. ‘I say, you know, you mustn’t worry. About that young chap, I mean. Inspector’s an ass… _ ” 

 

Logan paused the audiobook as he pulled up to an empty spot in the school’s student parking lot. He left the car running for a few seconds after parking it; he just leaned back and took a deep breath. If only he could just stay there all day. In the peace of his car, listening to  _ The Murder of Roger Ackroyd _ by Agatha Christie, and not having to deal with the annoying, whiny, lazy students of Whyte. 

 

Of course, he couldn’t do that. That’s why he had been listening the audiobook on his way to the school. It was only to calm him down. He had read and listened to the same book over and over, enough for him to be able to mouth the words along. 

 

Logan turned off the car by stretching his arm and pressing softly the starting button. His car was one of those with the button, and while Logan hated the button, the car itself was much better for the environment than others he had seen. He rested back on his seat, limp, again. His eyes trailed upwards to look at the building. Whyte hadn’t changed. The grounds were bustling with students; he still had another ten minutes before classes started, and he had already located his classrooms when he went to get his locker combination a week earlier. 

 

Two more years. Just… two more years. He could survive that. Logan was excited about learning; learning always managed to spark something inside of him that made him feel like a kid again. Just, the smallest of things always made the spark ignite. What he was  _ not _ excited about, were his classmates. 

 

Sighing, straightening his tie, and fidgeting with his glasses slightly, Logan unclasped his seatbelt and got out of the car, grabbing his backpack in a swift motion as he did so. He locked his car and started making his way towards the school. 

 

His first class was AP Psychology, and truth be told, no one in the classroom was surprised to see the boy enter the classroom. Logan was known as one of the smartest guys in the school; he had been the first one at Whyte to be offered to skip one year (something that went against the school district’s policies), which he refused as he wanted to end high school properly, and only being a Junior his Valedictorian title was almost secured. So, yes, Logan Oxford was well-known at Whyte. 

 

On his Freshman year, Logan was already taking upper classes, which at the moment was fine. But as the years went by, he noticed how easy and pointless all the classes were now. They were almost boring. Surely, he loved learning, but he also loved a challenge. Not one of his classes gave him a challenge. 

 

The teen walked towards the opens seats by the window near the front. It wasn’t too far in the back to be annoyed by those who were there because the class name looked pretty in transcripts, but it wasn’t too in the front, where the enthusiasts would whisper all class long along with the teacher’s voice as if they had read the teacher’s script beforehand. And also, while he did prefer studying, Logan always found a certain peace to the outside world. The nature, actually, he didn’t like the social outside world. 

 

Logan let his eyes wander for a bit around the room; there were only a few students, very loud ones at that. One was sitting on the desk, the rest standing around him. They were laughing loudly and pushing each other as a joke. Of course, they were all towards the back of the classroom. The “ _ It Looks Pretty On The Transcript _ ”. 

 

He knew most of their names; Katia, O’Sarentine, and Daisy were Seniors and part of the track team. Hoang and Gabriel were also Seniors, but part of the football team. They were… nice. Tolerable. The one sitting down, in the other hand, was  _ far _ from tolerable or nice. Matthew Grant; a Junior who Logan had the misfortune to share classes with since his Freshman year. For some reason, Grant hated Logan during their first year and made his number one mission to make Logan’s life… unpleasant. Logan didn’t hate many people ( _ It’s a waste of time _ he’d say) but Grant was in that list.

 

Logan distracted himself from the loud group by checking his phone. There was nothing new on it, obviously. But it was better than having Grant recognize him and start a fight the first day of school. After a while of him mindlessly scrolling through apps, the door opened again and someone, rather loudly, entered. Logan didn’t turn to look at him fully, but out of the corner of his eye, he recognized Patton Sanders. 

 

What. 

 

What was Patton Sanders doing in AP Psychology?

 

Of course Logan knew who he was. Patton, literally one of the most popular kids in the school (up there with Roman Minett, a Sophomore lacrosse player, and Grant). Patton knew, talked, and helped everyone. He was loud, friendly, and kind of a mess. 

 

The exact kind of people Logan tried to avoid. He didn’t need loud and messy in his life. He needed calm and scheduled, pristine, people.  _ Don’t sit there, don’t sit there, don’t sit th— ugh _ . His eyes followed Patton as he dropped off his backpack in the seat right in front of him, flashing him a wide smile, before he went to talk to the group at the back of the classroom. The classroom was almost empty, did he  _ need _ to sit  _ right  _ in front of Logan?

 

Logan started wondering about what Patton was doing in that class. For someone to know a lot about basically everyone at the school, Logan only knew what met the eye about Patton. He was a Senior, soon-to-be Valedictorian, loud, friendly, messy. But that was it. Logan didn’t know a single other thing. 

 

The door swung open again, gaining both Logan and Patton’s attention. Patton grinned and threw his arms around the guy excitedly. “Emile!” Well, that resolved the mystery of the guys name. 

 

Patton led the new guy, as they now both chatted animatedly, towards where his bag was. Emile seemed a much calmer guy; though he didn’t give off the shy vibe, and by the way he was talking Logan guessed he was as loud as Patton, Emile wasn’t going to be much of a problem. 

 

Slowly, the class started filling and somewhere along there, the teacher arrived. The first two days were always the most boring ones; a bunch of syllabuses and rules that would be discarded by the end of the second week. There wasn’t any actual learning. Just awkward ice breakers.

 

The day continued on like that, a boring awkward day. Logan didn’t see anyone he was mildly glad to see again —well, he saw them, he just didn’t talk to them— until he arrived back to his car. Leaning against the driver’s door, too caught up on her phone to notice Logan approaching her, was Marlene (Mare for short). 

 

“At last! Someone with at least half a brain,” Mare’s head snapped to look at him, a smirk on her lips.

 

“Ditto,” she placed her phone back into her pocket, turning to look at him as he opened the backseat door and placed his backpack there, “How was it?” 

 

“As well as I hoped,” Mare snorted and Logan closed the door, “you?” 

 

“It was shit.” 

 

“Expectable.” 

 

Mare walked around the car and got into the passenger seat, her black backpack rested against her legs. Logan got into the driver’s seat and started up the car. Mare and Logan had known each other since the start of middle school; Mare had just moved in next door, and neither was too happy of having to do a projector with partners, especially since the teacher chose the partners. Turned out that the while they were completely different, Mare and Logan agreed on a lot of topics, especially their fascination for learning. Though Mare hid it better than Logan. 

 

Mare was almost the stereotypical bad girl. Dress head-to-toes in black, a black leather jacket, her hair dyed electric blue and cut just over her shoulder… Sometimes she’d even wear a beanie too. She was chewing pink bubblegum ninety percent of the time too. 

 

Meanwhile, Logan wore a blue necktie, black polo shirt, and glasses. They were basically the two ends of the spectrum. Yet inseparable. 

 

“What do you know of Patton Sanders?”

 

Mare raised her eyebrow as she turned to him. Logan glanced briefly at her as he came to a stop at a red light. 

 

“Senior. Very popular. Straight A student. Cheerleader the first three years and co-coach this one…” Mare listed off the easy stuff; the kind of stuff anyone else could find. “Has a younger brother who’s starting this year; his parents are Margaret and Daniel Sanders, y’know the architect and the lawyer. Best friends with Emile Picani, and both plan on studying psychology after high school’s done… Or veterinarian. He doesn’t know yet.” 

 

They didn’t like gossip; they just liked to be well informed. If, for some reason, anyone ever needed to know about someone else —teachers included— in the school district (which included Whyte, Oube, and other four high schools) they’d go to Mare. She knew everything about everyone. At the same time, Logan knew everything that was going on; worldwide to town-wide. It wasn’t on purpose. It was just one of the consequences of not being very social. They were  _ always  _ paying attention even if they didn’t intend to. 

 

“I guess it makes sense then…”

 

“... care to elaborate, Oxford?” as Logan remained quiet, Mare scoffed, “don’t tell me you’re crushing on him.”

 

“Just because I’m gay does not mean I’ll have feelings for the first boy that walks in front of me, Mare.” Logan had never had a proper crush on anyone. He considered it a waste of time. He did find some physically pleasing to the eye or enjoyed some others’ personalities, but it never went past that. His realization that he was gay happened because he was always finding the male character more attractive. Even then, he had cared so little about the whole love thing that Mare had to tell him that he was gay. Logan knew it, just never properly addressed it. 

 

“Say that to Ackles.” 

 

“His face is symmetrically perfect, alright?” Logan defended himself winning a chuckle from Mare, “it’s just that. Besides, we were thirteen.” 

 

“Mm-hmm,” Logan pulled up to his driveway and turned off the car. Mare smirked at

Logan and popped her gum once more. “Dinner?”

 

“On the first night of school?” he asked incredulously in response, “you’re delusional. My parents would end me right there and then.” 

 

Mare chuckled and grabbed her backpack, swinging it over her shoulder as best as she could in the cramped space of her seat. “Tomorrow?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“See ya, Oxford.” She waved as she hopped off the car. 

 

“Goodbye, Rae.” Logan managed to say before Mare closed the door. Logan didn’t move from his spot for a good five minutes, just staring up at the side of the house. Delaying. Truth to be told, he didn’t want to go inside; he knew that meant being inside for the rest of the day. 

 

————————

 

Dinner was normal. Quiet as usual, the occasional question and the brief answer. Logan’s father was the Governor, his mother was a well known lawyer that worked for the state as well. Needless to say, Logan had a lot of expectations on his shoulders. 

 

If his parents’ expectations weren’t enough, he also had his father’s parents (both known business people) and his mother’s father (current Chief Operating Officer of NASA). But it didn’t bother Logan that much; on one hand, he  _ was  _ born into a family of geniuses and was pretty smart himself. On the other hand, he didn’t have the time to be bothered by it. 

 

“I heard they’re getting rid of that silly theater program from Whyte,” his father mentioned off hand. 

 

“They hadn’t before?” his mother answered in surprise but disinterest, “it was always a waste of money. They should’ve gotten rid of it after they lost for the second time.” 

 

Logan was beyond confused. He hadn’t heard anything about Whyte getting rid of the theater program; especially since it was mandatory from the school district. Also, if they were getting rid of it, why didn’t they do so at the end of the previous year? The school would have to redistribute students among existing classes. So, that couldn’t be the program they were talking about. “What program?”

 

“T.H.O.M.A.S.,” Logan shrunk back unconsciously.  _ Of course, how did I not know that _ , he reproached himself mentally before his mother started talking again, “Theatrical and Historic Organization for Modern Alliances of Students.” 

 

After that the topic was dropped and dinner continued on like normal and T.H.O.M.A.S. became nothing more than a thought in the back of his head. 


	4. Chapter 4

“So, are you going to join that club you have not stopped talking about?” Sandra’s pointed tone told him everything Roman needed to know that she really meant  _ Shut up _ . “Or are you going to evade it again?” 

 

“What do you mean  _ again _ ?” 

 

Eliza frowned up at him, “you were talking about it last year too…” 

 

“Didn’t join because —and I quote— ‘you weren’t good enough to compete with other schools like Oube.’” Sandra finished for Eliza. The three were walking home together after school. Roman frowned. He didn’t remember talking about, or even knowing about, T.H.O.M.A.S. before Coach K mentioned it almost two weeks ago. Surely, he had been talking about it almost non-stop for the last week and a half, as if there was something in subconscious who just couldn’t let go of the thought. But he couldn’t remember  _ knowing _ about the program. 

 

“I did?”

 

“It was before the concussion,” explained Eliza as she jumped and skipped the cracks on the sidewalk, her hand tightly clasped to Roman’s. 

 

During Freshman year, Roman was the prodigy of the team. Rarely did Freshmen make it into the Varsity team, and even more rarely did they make it into a hard position. But Roman did it; he was kind of like Harry Potter in that sense. Some hated him, some adored him, most knew his name but didn’t give two craps about him. And much like Harry Potter, during one of Roman’s first games, they went against a tough team and a ball flew past his teammates’ crosse and straight into his head. He could just remember seeing the white ball zooming towards him and then total blackness; his teammates later told him that he had blacked out and wouldn’t respond, to the point they called an ambulance. After that, there were small memories —most insignificant— that would slip away. 

 

His sisters had turned it into a game, whoever mentioned something he forgot would get a point. At the moment, Margarita was winning with Eliza very close behind. 

 

“Hmm…”

 

“So,” Sandra looked up at him, her hands grabbing both straps of her backpack, “are you going to join or not?”

 

He… didn’t know. He already had baseball practice, homework, work, and had to take care of his sisters; he wanted to join and help keep one of the few artsy things the school had, but he didn’t know if he could manage to do it. There were only twenty four hours in a day. He was also planning on auditioning for the plays that year. 

 

But… it’d be the first thing he’d be doing for himself for a long time. This wasn’t guaranteeing him a scholarship like baseball was, nor was it going to affect his grades like homework did, nor was it going to affect his family. It wouldn’t make his name known like the plays did… It’d be just for him. A bit of fun, a bit of meeting people, a bit of creativity… 

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a shrug before an idea popped into his brain, “actually, yeah, I’ll join.” His sisters smiled widely and excitedly before they arrived at their apartment. They basically busted in running and started excitedly telling Helena what was happening. On the girls’ middle school there was a similar program —less grand and less competitive— called D.O.T. (District of Theater); they mentioned it when Roman mentioned T.H.O.M.A.S. earlier that week. 

 

Helena had a free day as they were doing safety inspections to one of her jobs, so she didn’t have anything to do until four p.m.

 

The woman laughed at her daughters’ enthusiasm, listening to what they were saying. Margarita soon joined —after the other two briefed her in— on the jumping and excited chatter. Margarita was jumping in the couch near Roman, to which playfully he grabbed her and held her upside down. Margarita’s laugh exploded into the apartment, making the rest of the family laugh with her. “Our brother’s going to be famous!” 

 

Roman straightened Margarita and held her in his hip, a smile on his face. Guilt panged on his chest. He wasn’t going to join T.H.O.M.A.S., he would say he was but instead he’d get a second job secretly. Help his mother out. And speaking of his mother, Helena must have noticed the invisible guilt on his face. She smirked smugly, like when someone knows something and they also know that you know that they know. 

 

“When’s the first meeting?”

 

“Friday, I think.” 

 

“I want pictures,” Roman mentally cursed and his mother’s smirk grew wider.  _ Damn her for being so smart _ . 

 

New plan: Roman would go to the first meeting, take a picture, and then never go back. 

 

“At each meeting.” 

 

_ Oh fiddlesticks _ .

 

“Sure,” he tried to say as if that was no problem; his voice came a bit higher than he had hoped so. “I gotta go do homework before practice,” he set Margarita down in the floor and motioned to his room. Helena nodded softly. “Bye.” Roman scurried into his room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, sliding down to the floor where he sat sighing exasperatedly. Through the door he could hear his sisters’ chanting easily. 

 

“ _ Our brother’s gonna be famous! _ ” 

 

What did he get himself into? There was no way of backing down now… His eyes scanned his room. In was small and cramped but it was good. He had a bed with a dark red cover; posters, baseball flags, some college flags he was mildly interested, pictures, and some other things were hanging from the walls. There was a small window and underneath it was his bedside table. His bedside table touched his bed and the kitchen opposite wall; the room was big enough to fit a bed and the bedside table perfectly. The window was one of the exits to the fire escape; one he had used in the middle of the night more times than Helena knew about. He’d go to the roof and just let everything —stress, strong emotions, and energy— die down.

 

_ Die down _ . 

 

Roman’s eyes went wide. That was it! That was how he’d managed to do it! Coach K had already mentioned how T.H.O.M.A.S. was a dying program; it wouldn’t last past Friday! 

 

He could say he was attending the meetings, take photos in classes, and just work. It was lying, and he hated lying to his family, but they needed it. He needed to be useful to his family… his sisters needed a role model, his mother needed a break. Though it pained him, he  _ had _ to do it. 

 

——————

When Friday arrived, he had the babysitter pick up Margarita from Kinder. The first meeting should be over by the time he needed to pick up Eliza and Sandra.

 

He walked over to the room where the meeting would supposedly be held. Upon entering he met with fifteen people and instantly knew that the club wouldn’t last. Most were theater kids, from the plays and his classes, but he also knew how easily they got bored of stuff. Half of those wouldn’t even last a week in a club that was falling apart. Also, fifteen was  _ not _ enough to do a play good enough to win against Oube. 

 

In the crowd he spotted a foundation-covered face and he sighed in annoyance. Funnily enough, the only seat open was next to him. It was a rather small classroom with only a couple of desks. It was the smallest classroom of the school. He knew that face way too well; Virgil Sanders. The sassy emo kid that sat behind him in History; he was always making witty comments or scoffing at something the teacher said. Not only a Freshman in a Sophomore class, but also scoffing at the teacher. Who did he think he was. 

 

Virgil must have felt his gaze on him as he turned to look at Roman, his face shifting into a sneer as their eyes connected. Roman watched him groan and mutter something to Patton —Roman hadn’t talked to him before but he knew Patton, but then again, who didn’t at Whyte?— before sinking even further into his seat. Patton’s eyes scanned the room looking for who Virgil was talking about before his eyes fell on Roman. Patton’s smile was radiant and welcoming; much more welcoming than his Jack Skellington of a brother. 

 

_ How can someone so nice and cheerful like Patton end up being brothers with  _ Virgil _? _

 

“Ah, Dark and Gloomy, how are you doing today?” He spoke as he neared the seat. Virgil glared at him as Roman sat down. Virgil could glare all he wanted, Roman lived with four bossy girls. He was used to glaring. 

 

“Shut up, Princey.” Virgil pulled his hoodie up and stared ahead. Roman scoffed and mocked him, unaware that Patton was watching him imitate (rather rudely) his younger brother. Roman didn’t even notice until he heard a light chuckle from the Senior. 

 

“Roman, right?” he nodded and shook Patton’s extended hand, “I’m Patton, Virgil’s brother.” 

 

“Do you how do?”

 

Patton let out a laugh, throwing his head backwards and making a smile appear in Roman’s face. He managed to make Patton laugh. “My best friend says the same thing all the time,” Patton explained as he wiped a fake tear off the corner of his eye. 

 

Before anything else could be said, the door opened and in came the math teacher they had been waiting for. Mr. Kimms was a small dude; scrawny, slightly hunched back as if he was always trying to make himself even smaller, and he had thinning light brown hair. He was also around Virgil’s height (a.k.a. much shorter than Roman). He wore thin-rimmed rectangular glasses and had about twenty-seven different ties; a third of those had either math signs, theater symbols, or some bad pun. The others were outrageous colors. 

 

“H-Hey,” he smiled nervously yet sadly at the silent and staring group. Roman knew already what words were going to leave his mouth next, “thank you for coming but, uh, T.H.O.M.A.S. is not going to be a program this year. I’m sorry…” he tried to apologize when almost everyone groaned. Most of them instantly picked up their stuff and started heading for the door; most of them. 

 

Roman was going to wait so he wouldn’t be trampled to death by the others and then he noticed Virgil whispering to Patton, a serious look on his face. There was also another guy who sat towards the back and didn’t stand either. 

 

Whatever Virgil was whispering must have not worked as Patton stood up and went to the teacher, talking loud enough for the three remaining people in the room to hear.  At the same time Virgil let out a string of swear words under his breath before taking a calming breath. 

 

“Wait, Mr. Kimms, what about the donations? We—”

 

“I’m sorry Patton, but there’s nothing I can do.” 

 

Patton wasn’t giving up easily. Roman had planned to leave after the mob of students, but was now too invested in whatever Patton had to say to leave. This was  _ very _ interesting. “Over two thirds of the donations that the school has made have been contributed by T.H.O.M.A.S.; if we don’t perform, there’ll be less donations for the scholarships, therefore aggravating the chances of students to achieve a higher education!” Roman didn’t need to look around to  _ know _ that Virgil’s, the other guy’s, and his eyes were all wide and looking at Patton.  

 

Patton wasn’t dumb, Roman knew that much. He  _ was _ going to be the Valedictorian after all. But no one had thought Patton could be… so eloquent. Or informed. It even managed to surprise Virgil, as the younger brother was staring at Patton as if they had just met and Patton had impressed him. 

 

Roman had doubted that Patton knew the meaning of aggravating… but apparently, Patton was even smarter than he looked. 

 

“Patto—”

 

“So what if T.H.O.M.A.S. has never won before? We’ve still performed and helped donations. We’ve helped people get better lives, get out of bad lifestyles, bad places, by helping them have a possibility to go to college,” Patton would’ve gone on and on. In all fairness, he had a good point; sure, in thirteen years they never won, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t help. The guy in the back spoke up, interrupting Patton and making everyone turn to him. 

 

“The school doesn’t care about donations, Patton,” he mentioned, “winning the competition means that every student participating in the show gets a scholarship and the school gets money as well.” 

 

“Yes, thank you, Logan. Funding a program like T.H.O.M.A.S. tends to be… expensive too,” agreed Mr. Kimms with a sad smile. “I tried but there’s nothing I can do. Sorry boys.”

 

And with that, the scrawny teacher left the room. Patton groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his hair before he started pacing; Roman could almost see the turning gears in his head. Every so often, Patton would open his mouth like he had an idea and then closed it. 

 

“Patt…”

 

“No,” Patton cut his brother off surprising everyone else, “you don’t get it. I  _ have _ to do something… it’s my last year and it feels like I haven’t done enough…” 

 

“Didn’t you organize three charity rallies last year?” Roman asked confused. It had been on the news as they had been almost massive events for different charities. 

 

“...and led many charity clubs?” added Logan as he walked closer to the three. 

 

“You’re creative… ish… you can start something on your own,” alright. Out of all the weird turns that had happened in the last fifteen minutes, hearing Virgil encourage someone was by far the weirdest in Roman’s book. “Hell—” Patton gave Virgil a look and Virgil sighed, “heck, if you wanted you could start a foundation.”

 

“As much as I hate to agree with Stormy Night over here,” Virgil growled at him, “he is right. You could start something new and better.” 

 

Patton sighed and stopped pacing; his shoulders dropped and he smiled sadly. It really upset Roman to see the usually upbeat guy so depressed. Surely Patton was older than him, but Roman’s older brother instincts still kicked on. He wanted to do something to help him out, get the guy he literally just met to smile again. 

 

“It’s just… T.H.O.M.A.S. would’ve been a place for the artsy people here at Whyte to have an opportunity —a real opportunity.” Patton explained as he leaned against a desk and looked at the others, by now they were almost in a circle. Logan and Patton leaning against desks, Roman sitting on the chair, and Virgil on the table. “Keeping that program alive would’ve been giving science students a place to test their artsy sides… like us.”

 

“Oh, I have no art side.” Spoke Logan. Roman raised an eyebrow to look at the blue-tied guy. 

 

“Why’re you here then?”

 

“I have a meeting with the principal in ten minutes and I wasn’t going to leave and then come back,” Logan’s tone made it sound as if it was obvious. Roman didn’t like people talking to him that way, but he couldn’t help but focus more on Virgil’s little smile. What was it with the kid that day? Hours earlier in History he was roasting the teacher under his breath and now he was encouraging people and smiling? 

 

“Smart.”

 

“Thanks,” Logan offered an equally small smile to the Virgil. 

 

Patton sighed and ran another hand through his hair, this time cleaning it up a bit. He looked up and shrugged, a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’ll figure something else then,” as if a switch had been flipped, Patton went back into his happy-go-lucky self. Roman was also capable of doing the same switch, so he read right through Patton’s act. “We should get going, Emile’s going to be here soon,” Virgil nodded and grabbed his backpack before jumping off the table. “See you around guys!” Virgil just waved at them and followed his brother out. 

 

Roman and Logan were left staring at the door. 

 

“Hmm,” Logan hummed gaining Roman’s attention. 

 

“What?”

 

“They’re a really… odd family.” Roman snorted and nodded, glancing back at the door. 

 

“Understatement of the year,” he chuckled making the same small smile appear in Logan’s face. There was a silence for a couple of seconds before Roman looked at Logan with a curious frown. “How come you’re already in trouble? It’s been two weeks since school started?” 

 

Logan frowned, seemingly startled by the question. “Excuse me?”

 

“You’re meeting with the principal?” he answered with the same tone of voice. 

 

“I’m —I’m the student ’s representative in board meetings,” Logan frowned even deeper. Oh. That made more sense than someone who wears a tie (everyone knows that people that wear ties are serious) getting in trouble after barely starting the school year. “Why did you assume I had gotten in trouble?” 

 

“You seem like someone who would pick up a fight,” Roman shrugged. He did. Logan seemed very strongly opinionated. 

 

“I do, verbal ones. The others are too messy.” 

 

Roman snorted out a chuckle before he glanced down at his watch. Fifteen minutes until his sisters got out of school; he could make it easily. “I’ll see you around I guess, pocket calculator.” Logan didn’t even question Roman’s nickname; thankfully because not even Roman knew what it meant. 

 

He left the room, waving slightly at Logan, and as the door closed behind him, Roman noticed that Logan had gotten deep in a thought. No longer aware of anything… Roman would never know what he was thinking about. They would probably never see each other again besides passing by in the hallways; so he just brushed off the thought and speed walked towards the elementary school.


	5. Chapter 5

Logan wasn’t a bold character; he rarely did things without planning or thinking about every single possible outcome. He’d do mental tree diagrams with every outcome that he could imagine. 

 

So, of course he spent the whole night twisting and turning in his bed, unable to catch sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time before another ridiculous outcome popped into his half-unconscious mind.  _ That _ is why he thought about the outcome  _ before _ and not  _ after _ . 

 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Of course, Mare noticed immediately. To anyone else, he looked completely normal; combed hair, tie, and perfect posture. Mare had known him for the longest time; she knew when he had slept enough or when he had pulled an accidental all-nighter. “You look like a truck drove over you.” 

 

“Thank you, Mare, for your encouraging words.” He answered sourly and sarcastically. 

 

“Oh yeah, you  _ definitely  _ didn’t sleep,” Mare chuckled as she got in the car and Logan started it. Whenever Mare didn’t oversleep, Logan would drive her to school and then everyday they’d return together. Mare hated the bus and she failed her driving test three times. Her parents decided to wait a bit before letting her try again. “Care to share why with the class?”

 

Logan didn’t answer, he simply pointed with his thumb to the backseat. Mare turned slightly around and her eyes went wide when she spotted the boxes. There were two filing cardboard boxes, the lids barely staying in place by the amount of papers. There were also three manila folders overflowing with papers. 

 

“Tell me they’re from the police,” Mare turned rapidly to look at Logan who sighed. 

 

“Mare.”

 

“It would’ve been awesome,” she muttered under her breath as she turned back to look at the boxes. “What are they?” 

 

“Irrelevant.”

 

“They kept you up all night, Oxford, they seem pretty relevant.” Mare pointed out as she sat straight again in her seat. They were quiet the rest of the way to school; she was staring out the window, popping her pink bubblegum, deep in thought about who knows what. Logan was also quiet, focused on driving and trying to get rid of the invasive negative thoughts. “Do your parents know?” Mare suddenly asked as Logan pulled up into the parking lot, “about the boxes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Shit,” Logan didn’t share  _ everything _ with his parents, but he never hid anything. That means Logan left the boxes in the car during the night to hide them from his parents. “It’s serious.” 

 

“It’s not bad —I think,” Logan shrugged as he turned off the car after parking it. Neither moved, knowing perfectly well that Logan was trying to word his question in the best way possible. “I need a favor.”

 

“Favor?” Mare raised her eyebrow and turned to sit looking at him, “you know my rules.”

 

“Of course I know your rules,” Logan rolled his eyes in amusement, “I need someone’s schedule.” 

 

“You what now?” Logan was a smart guy and rarely acted shady or had secrets. He usually told her his whole plan in detail; so she was a bit confused when Logan was barely giving her any information. But that also meant that he was insecure about said plan, or —as it rarely happened— he was winging said plan. This time, he was winging it. “Is it Patton’s? Because, I swear, if you choose to stalk him rather than talk to him, I’ll—”

 

“I don’t like Patton, Mare.” Logan exclaimed exasperated, “but yes. I need Patton’s schedule.” 

 

“Does it relate with the boxes?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Will you tell me what the boxes are, and cover for me tonight, if I get you his schedule?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“And you’ll buy me coffee after school.”

 

“You’re pushing too hard, Mare,” Logan smirked as he opened his door to get out of the car. Mare laughed and copied his actions.

 

“I had to try,” she shrugged and smirked smigly at him, “give me an hour.” With that, Mare walked off to the school, leaving Logan to ponder on what was he getting himself into. 

 

This could either go excellent or horribly wrong. 

 

Why was he even doing this? This was dumb. Very dumb. Very unplanned. Logan wasn’t bold, he couldn’t just wing it. All because of his classmate? They said Junior year was the weirdest but he hadn’t expected it to be  _ this _ weird. 

 

As promised, an hour later Mare was waiting outside his class with a paper in her hand. She handed it over with a smug smirk making Logan roll his eyes. “Get out of here, Rae.” 

 

“Love you too, Oxford.” And she walked away. Her all-black outfit and blue hair standing out between the other students. 

 

Logan read over Patton’s classes; he wasn’t planning on remembering them, though he probably would end up doing —curse his brain—, but he needed to find his next class. AP Anatomy.  _ Anatomy _ ? Why was Patton taking Anatomy?

 

Logan read Patton’s schedule once more and noticed that six out of seven classes were APs or college classes. Anatomy, Psychology, Economics, Modern Globalization… Patton was either way smarter than Logan previously thought when he first saw him in Psychology or Patton was an insane Senior that chose a hard full schedule for his last year. Either way, Logan had what he needed, so he crumpled the schedule into a ball and threw it into the nearby trash can. 

 

Logan would’ve texted him, but he didn’t have his number. He would’ve told him in the hallway, but Logan knew they didn’t cross paths that day. His last resource was going to his classroom. 

 

Logan went to the still-empty classroom and placed the small note addressed for  _ P. Sanders _ on top of the teacher’s desk. He left unnoticed by the people surrounding the classroom and made his way to his own classroom. Oh, he was hoping so hard that all the trouble he went through was worth at the end of the day. 

 

The note wasn’t long, and no one else would get it but him. It was simple, to the point. 

 

Logan had written the classroom number where the T.H.O.M.A.S. meeting was held, and then followed it with a time. He signed with his name, so the format was rather simple. 

 

_ A113. 14:30.  _

_ —Logan  _

 

When two thirty o’clock rolled by, Logan was making it his best effort to not fidget anxiously. It wasn’t normal for him to be anxious; but he was now. He knew perfectly it’d go away as soon as Patton crossed that door but until then, he was left sitting in that table. Yes. Logan was anxious enough that he didn’t care what was a chair and what was not a chair. 

 

Patton’s happy face popped into the room and the smile broadened when he spotted Logan. “Logan!”

 

“Hello, Patton.” Logan found himself scanning the area slightly, “is Virgil not with you?” 

 

“Nope, he went home.” Patton answered in a chirpy tone, “I can call him, if you want.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Almost as if on cue, there was a knock on the door before it opened revealing Virgil, slightly reddened cheeks, “ah, hello, Virgil.”

 

“Logan.”

 

“How funny, we were just talking about you,” Patton grinned.

 

“Hilarious. You took the keys for the locks.” Virgil extended his hand towards his brother as Patton searched around his pockets. Logan simply watched the scene until he remembered why they were there. 

 

“Do you have any hurry, Virgil?” The Freshman shook his head, “perhaps you can stay…” 

 

“I’m not staying to watch you two make out.” 

 

“We won’t —we’re not going to make out,” answered Logan narrowing his eyes in confusion. Why was everyone thinking him and Patton liked each other? They literally just begun speaking after being in the same school for three years. “Patton made excellent points about T.H.O.M.A.S. yesterday, some that were worth thinking over. I’ve talked to the principal and he has agreed to give you a chance. You’d have to lead, direct, and organize everything. If you accept, you can have T.H.O.M.A.S.”

 

The brothers were in silence, speechless. Virgil was frowning and Patton was trying to process all the information given. Logan knew it was a lot, but he knew there was even more. It took him nearly an hour to convince the principal that the pros of a program like this outweighed the cons. Principal Pederson was  _ very _ against it; he thought that having a losing team of something, made the school look bad. Especially if they lost for thirteen years. But, being the son of a governor and a lawyer, Logan managed to convince him. Logan had a day to convince Patton of taking the offer; if he said no, then T.H.O.M.A.S. would cease to exist. If he said yes, there were three possible outcomes; it could go excellent, it could break Patton, or it could do as well as the previous years and be cancelled the next year. 

 

No pressure. 

 

“Sure.”

 

_ Sure _ ? That was it? That was Patton’s answer. Sure. As if he had been asked if he wanted pizza. Sure. 

 

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into? You won’t have any support from the school,” Logan mentioned worried and confused. 

 

“I said it yesterday, I want T.H.O.M.A.S. to thrive… if it means challenges, let’s go.” Logan went to speak again, trying to get Patton to see the severity of his answer, but Virgil cut him off. 

 

“He set his mind, he ain’t gonna change it,” Virgil smirked, “I’m in.” 

 

Patton grinned widely as his brother who shrugged and looked at the ground; obviously there was a reason for why the anxious kid was so willing to accept such a challenge on his Freshman year, but Logan was not about to pry into something that wasn’t his. 

 

“Logan?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you in?” Patton’s question left him perplexed. He had only thought about giving Patton the opportunity of having T.H.O.M.A.S.; he hadn’t even considered joining. His parents hated T.H.O.M.A.S., there was no way he could join. “Logan.”

 

“I—”

 

“You said it yourself,” spoke up Virgil as Logan weighed his options. What answer would hurt him and his future the less. “We won’t have any school support and you seem pretty good with business.” 

 

“You could be in charge of the business side,” Patton finished the idea for his brother. 

 

Logan had two options; he could say yes, get some working experience, and have his parents hate him. Or he could say no, get no working experience, and have his parents like him. 

 

His parents’ hate would fade away anyways. 

 

“I’ll join you.” Patton grinned and hugged Logan quickly. Logan’s body tensed and he stood there awkwardly, being hugged by his brand new teammate.

 

“Patt, let the dude breathe,” spoke Virgil sending a quick smirk at Logan as Patton let go of him with a rapid apology. “You’ll get used to his energy.” 

 

There was a silence for a few seconds before Patton spoke up, the same tone he’d use in Psychology class when he connected topics after struggling for a while. “Should we call Roman?” 

 

“Ugh, why?”

 

“It’d be wise,” Logan answered at the same time as Virgil. Logan turned to the youngest and explained, “from what I know, Roman  _ is _ the only one that has experience in professional make believe.” 

 

Virgil grumbled and fished out his phone, “fine.” He pressed a few buttons and for the next few minutes he was having a conversation before he rolled his eyes, turned off his phone, and slipped it back into his pocket. 

 

“So?”

 

“He’s on his way here.” 

 

Patton smiled confused at his brother, “why do you have Roman’s number? I thought you hated each other?” 

 

Logan nodded in agreement. He didn’t need to put attention to their whole interaction the day before to know they despised each other. 

 

“We’re in a history project together,” Virgil crossed his arms. The three talked about trivial stuff, much to Logan’s annoyance. He hated small talk. But he didn’t want to bring out the boxes until Roman gave his answer. 

 

Unfortunately for Logan, that small-medium talk lasted ten minutes. It took Roman ten minutes to get there. The dramatic boy opened the door with a confused frown before landing his gaze in Logan. 

 

“We are trying to start T.H.O.M.A.S. with Patton in charge and we require someone with experience in the theater world. Are you in?” 

 

Roman took as long as Logan. Weighing his options, imagining planners to see if he has the time, all the things Logan did. After almost a full minute in silence, Roman shrugged and nodded. “Count me in.” Roman sat down next to Patton. 

 

“Well then,” Logan went to the stacked boxes and the manila folders he had against the wall; he grabbed them and put them down in the middle of the group, “meet T.H.O.M.A.S.”

 

All their eyes went wide and their jaws dropped low. There was absolute silence for a couple of minutes, their eyes just trying to comprehend the papers, before a sigh broke the silence. Virgil grabbed the manila folder on top as he spoke in a low but clear voice. 

 

“The shit I do for you, Patton.”

 

Roman laughed loudly before grabbing the next manila folder. Logan and Patton both ignored the remaining folder and each grabbed a box; while Patton sat down, Logan remained standing. They were in complete silence, all scanning briefly through the papers to at least try to get them in a specific order. 

 

Logan’s papers turned out to be just what he was going to be in charge of. Most were budget forms, meetings, theaters where they could perform, the rules… There were also papers about the rewards in case they won. 

 

“Oh,” Logan was quickly scanning the four pages, grasping the important words, “well, that makes a lot more sense.” He spoke to himself, almost forgetting that he wasn’t alone. 

 

“What?” All three eyes were on him. Logan lifted the paper for the others to see.

 

“These are the rewards if T.H.O.M.A.S. wins,” their eyes went as wide as Logan’s. The thing was four pages, front and back, with small letter. Of course the school was angry that they hadn’t won yet. 

 

If Whyte was to win the competition there was a list of rewards for the school alone. A quite big sum of money for the artistic program at the school; a possible boost in the school budget; and the list went on and on. Benefits for the principal, benefit for teachers, benefits for students, for budget, for sports, for… basically everything. The school’s name gets a boost, the equipment gets a boost… 

 

“No pressure, huh?” Roman huffed out a chuckle agreeing with Virgil. 

 

“We need a plan, this is— this is too much.” Patton spoke up motioning around the papers. 

 

“We could divide them, everyone takes a topic, reads it and masters it,” Virgil offered. Patton looked at his brother with a proud grin. Of course they were going to do that, that was what Logan was doing by scanning the papers, but the question was how. If Logan even thought about taking the papers home, he’d be doomed. His parents could find them and Logan would be grounded until he graduates college. “So, who takes what?”

 

“Logan’ll take the business side, right?” Logan nodded to Roman’s words, “Patton takes all the social side because, you know, Mr. Popular has more connections than us three combined,” Patton tried to argue against that but Roman waved it off, “and I’ll take the theater side of it, duh.” 

 

“What about me?” Frowned offended Virgil.  _ Please don’t fight, or I’ll slap you both _ . Logan definitely needed to stop hanging out with Mare. 

 

“Well, you can help us.” 

 

“Excuse me, I’m not ju—”

 

Logan interrupted before a fight broke out, “Roman’s right, Virgil—”

 

“Of course you take his side,” Virgil rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Logan frowned at him. 

 

“No, I’m not —honestly, I find you both to be a little… insufferable,” Logan answered winning raised eyebrows from the other three but he continued talking, “Roman’s right, we need someone who has at least a bit of knowledge on all fronts. You will be able to spot flaws that we won’t and tell us.” 

 

Virgil grumbled and nodded. “How are we going to divide them? It’s going to take forever…”

 

“Take them home?” offered Patton and instantly got a firm  _ No _ from the other three. Logan couldn’t take the papers home. 

 

“We could divide them now—” Roman’s phone interrupted Roman’s words. He quickly grabbed it and answered. “Yeah? Alright, I’m—” he looked at the other three, “I’m coming. Sorry, no, Sandra don’t move —you are  _ not _ walking home alone. Why? Oh I don’t know, because you’re  _ eleven _ ?!” After that he hung up and stood up. “I have to go.”

 

“We heard,” Roman looked at Logan and rolled his eyes. 

 

“What if we put this in a locker, and tomorrow after school we stay and organize them? That way we can schedule things and all stay,” offered Patton. 

 

“That’s a great idea!” a new voice came from the door making them all turn around. Mare stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her hip sticking out as she looked at the four. 

 

“I told you I wasn’t driving you home, Rae.” Virgil and Roman turned to look at Logan in surprise. Logan ignored both; they usually got the same reaction. How could it possibly be that the nerd Logan was friends with the cool-looking rebellious Mare? He didn’t care what they thought. 

 

“Did you? When? Between the asking for the favor or the mystery of the boxes?” Logan recalled the morning’s drive and realize it had slipped his mind. He had been so worried that he forgot to tell Mare that he wouldn’t be driving her home. Logan sighed and went to apologize but Mare raised her finger and stopped him, “don’t apologize. Just get this done and hurry up. I have a party to sneak out to, and you have to cover me.”

 

Logan hated covering for her. It was  _ so _ boring! He had done it more times than he could count, every time he asked for a favor, he’d end up covering for her or rescuing her from a party. Favor… “You’re not using your locker are you?”

 

“Nah, why?” Mare popped the bubblegum. The three other people in the room were quietly watching the conversation like a table tennis match. 

 

“Could we use it for this?” Mare raised her eyebrow and took a paper off Virgil’s hands. She scanned it quickly before snapping her head to him. “I know, why do you think I’m asking.” 

 

“Four nights a month.”

 

“One.”

 

“Four or nothing.”

 

“Two nights, remember I also drive you basically anywhere,” Mare narrowed her eyes and a smug smirk stretched over Logan’s lips. 

 

“You can have it,” she turned to look at the others giving them a sly smirk and then she turned back to Logan, “your parents will eat you alive if they hear about—”

 

“But you won’t tell.” Mare cackled and winked at him. 

 

“Who do you think I am? My mom? Of course I won’t tell,” she adjusted her leather jacket and ran a hand through her hair. She looked at the others, at the papers, and then back up the team. “Have fun with your little nerd club.” She turn around and walked away, her black heeled combat boots clicking as she walked away. The others turn to Logan just as he rolled his eyes at her; he wasn’t fazed by her antics anymore. Virgil was the first one to speak; 

 

“Can we replace Roman with her? She seems much better.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Virgil found himself looking forward to meeting with the others for T.H.O.M.A.S. the following Monday. Sure, he didn’t like Roman that much, but it was much better than dealing with gossipy classmates. To think they were barely starting their third week. Freshman year was easy; a bunch of classes where he already knew the information. Whenever Patton wasn’t at home (which was  _ a lot _ ), Virgil would often sneak into Patton’s room and read; it was calming. Especially the challenging ones. They’d take his mind off things and often Patton would find Virgil fast asleep in Patton’s bedroom floor with one of his textbooks open in front of him. 

 

All that reading left Virgil knowing the information that his teachers were spewing in class. They were boring, painstakingly long, slow, and for God’s sake for some reason all the other Freshmen were just so stupid. 

 

History was the only… tolerable one. It’s one of the three he shared with Remy, and unfortunately, with Roman as well. It was a Sophomore class and yet Virgil still knew most things the teacher taught. But the projects were better; longer, harder, and way more fun. 

 

That monday, unfortunately, he didn’t have History. He had three Freshmen-only classes and Music, one of the other classes he shared with Remy. Music, while not a Freshman-only class, it certainly felt like it; upperclassmen usually chose Music II or III. 

 

So, yes, Virgil was more than ready for the classes to be over and go dive into the many papers they had to read. Even if it meant being in that small classroom with Roman. 

 

He was the first one to arrive. It took him two minutes after the last bell rang to be inside the art classroom; his thick manila folder in hand and headphones covering his ears. Virgil joined T.H.O.M.A.S. just for the sake of having something to do outside of class and away from home. But he had to admit, the more he read the papers, the more invested he accidentally got. 

 

And because of that, two minutes after the bell rang, Virgil was sitting there with papers strewn in his table, a pen in between his fiddling fingers, and a notebook in front of him. He took notes of things the others should know; basic things like the history behind it. 

 

It was a good organization; Young Theater was funded by a woman called Angelica fifteen years ago. She was a billionaire playwright and came from a family of actors and writers; she met a couple of high school students once and realized the potential they had in theater and was heartbroken when they were unable to achieve a future in theater because of funds. She started Young Theater, an organization that brought schools together. Only a few schools at the start. Made it competitive for the sake of people wanting to join. And allowed every school to choose its own name, its own acronym. 

 

Whyte High School was one of those few selected schools. 

 

The door opened when he finished the last note about the history. He had kind of hoped that it was his brother but instead, Roman walked in. Both sighed at the same time. Without sharing another word, Roman sat down at another table and started reading through his own folder. Each had picked their folders from Mare’s locker on the way to the classroom. 

 

The door opened again a few minutes later. Both teens turned to look at the door in relief; finally someone who would make the room less awkward. Even Logan, who didn’t speak to them that much, would’ve been enough. But it wasn’t Patton nor Logan who walked in; a janitor, Mr. Duke, walked in instead. He seemed shocked to see students still in the classroom. “Uh, you guys can’t be here?” 

 

“We have a club meeting,” Roman answered unsure. Technically they did have a club meeting, it’s just that a club made of four people should hardly be considered a club. 

 

“Well, the room isn’t reserved,” Mr. Duke shrugged, “so, I’m sorry, but you have to get out. School rules.” 

 

Mr. Duke was a nice old man. Everyone at the school knew him and respected him —sometimes even more than the actual teachers. He was kind of the grandfather of the school, the one you’d go to when in need of advice. He was in his late sixties and had worked at the school for twenty-four years. He knew everything and everyone at the school. Mr. Duke had even mastered writing letters of recommendation as many would go ask him for those. 

 

Virgil and Roman started packing up, placing papers back in folders and putting notebooks in backpacks. “Y’know,” Mr. Duke broke the silence again, “theater doesn’t use the auditorium until five… and it stays open until they leave so…”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Virgil thanked him and he exited the classroom after Roman. They waved at Mr. Duke, who smiled warmly at them, and then started making their way to the auditorium. “Well, this is great.”

 

“Yeah, thank you, Negative Nancy.” Roman scoffed as he rolled his eyes in unison with Virgil. Virgil slipped his phone out of his pocket as he pushed all the negative nicknames he wanted to call Roman back into his mind, hiding them in a dark corner so they won’t resurface again; he was trying to… not become friends –no, that seemed almost impossible with someone like Roman, but at least become partners. They were in this whole T.H.O.M.A.S. thing for the rest of the year, so they needed to at least be… civil. Clearly Roman wasn’t planning on doing the same, his nicknames getting more creative every time. “What are you doing?” 

 

“Take a guess,” Virgil muttered as he hit send. Roman looked at him expectantly and Virgil rolled his eyes yet again, “we’re missing two members, Sir Sing-a-lot.” 

 

“I knew that,” Roman defended himself, his voice getting slightly high pitched. 

 

“Of course you did,” they continued walking in silence. The auditorium, for a science school, was big. It could hold about a hundred and fifty people and the stage was quite large. There was also a ‘Black box’, a great half-empty room with nothing but props, boards, and black walls that you could use as chalk boards. Roman knew the auditorium like the back of his hand, he strolled right in. Virgil didn’t. He was… impressed. High ceilings, green plush seats, dark wooden terminations, and the stage lit up like in a movie as Roman flipped on the switches. “Whoa…”

 

“What? Never seen a auditorium?”

 

Virgil was too entranced by the place to bark something equally mocking, so he just shook his head. “No, not really.”

 

“Well,” Roman smirked as Virgil turned to him, “welcome to our new meeting place, Virgil!” Roman threw his arms wide as he motioned around dramatically. Almost as if on cue, the doors opened again, now revealing the eldest Sanders and Logan. “Oh, we’ve been blessed by your presence!” Roman exclaimed sarcastically as Virgil climbed on the stage. He couldn’t help but smirk at Roman’s words. 

 

“Sorry, we got lost,” Patton excused them as the two walked down the aisle towards the stage. 

 

“How? There’s a massive set of stairs in front of it…” Virgil frowned before noticing that the two had arrived together, “how come you arrived together?”

 

“We accidentally met at the locker,” Logan explained as he set down his box on the stage before climbing onto the stage. Virgil sat down on the floor and opened the folder again, spreading the papers in front of him, and continued doing his work. Logan pulled up a chair and followed Virgil into reading the papers. Patton, like his brother, just lied down on the floor with his box by his side while Roman sat on a table —which was somehow holding up his weight despite being just a prop— and also began to read. 

 

The session went… silent. Besides the turning of pages, Roman’s grumbling when the letters began to swim in front of his eyes, and Virgil’s pen against the paper. After half an hour of silence, Roman sighed and put the paper down before looking around. Virgil was no longer reading but had his head pressed against the papers —somewhere along the reading, Virgil had copied his brother and was now lying down on the floor. His head slightly turned to Roman’s quiet snickering, and instead of feeling anxious about what the hell could Roman be thinking about, he smirked as well. 

 

The two turned to Logan who was deep in his reading, though no surprise there, and then turned to Patton, who was somehow still focused on what he was reading. Virgil wondered if he had been wrong about Patton’s true intentions with T.H.O.M.A.S. Maybe it wasn’t to get out of the house, even though he rarely spent time at home at all, but because he really wanted to do it. 

 

Virgil was going to help either way, but a guilt brewed on the pit of his stomach as he thought why  _ he _ was there. He just wanted out of his constant-bickering house. And then there was Patton who actually wanted to do it to help others. God, why was he always so selfish? Always thinking about himself and no one else and—

 

“Y’know,” Roman interrupted the silence and won the attention of the other three, “we’ll be working for a year together and we know, like, nothing about each other.” 

 

“And you want to do, what? Petty icebreakers?” Logan answered with a disdain Virgil could agree with; they just spent the last two weeks doing unnecessary icebreakers. 

 

“God, no.” Virgil spoke before he could stop himself. Logan smirked at his reaction. Apparently, it wasn’t just the anxious teen that hated the icebreakers. Or that didn’t smile more than smirks… hmm, interesting.

 

“No, those are horrible,” Roman agreed as he waved his hand dismissing the idea. He pondered for a bit before shrugging, “we need to know each other… if we want to work as a team.”

 

“Ok,” Patton nodded as he twisted himself weirdly before sitting down criss-crossed. He looked at the others as if expecting them to say something but as nothing came, he cheerfully started, “alright, so I’m Patton—”

 

“Oh, joy, it is awkward ice breakers.”

 

“I’m a Senior and I love all animals, and my friends, and my teachers, and I want to do this because this way I can help others.” 

 

_ Well, now no one can top that! _ Virgil thought to himself as he fidgeted with the cap of his pen. His notes were messily scribbled on the notebook paper so he just looked up to avoid going down the rabbit hole of thoughts of how messy his life was. Upon looking up, he met with three pairs of eyes. 

 

“Uh, no.” 

 

“C’mon Emo Nightmare, at least one thing?” Roman rolled his eyes. He was kicking his legs back and forth like a kid as he looked down to where Virgil was lying down. Virgil groaned as he dropped his head for a second. 

 

“I don’t actually hate theater?” he dragged his words as he shrank into himself. Could he be any more lame?  _ I don’t hate the theater _ , well, genius Virgil! Being part of a  _ theater club _ .

 

“Well, gee, I guess we’ll win this competition!” Roman exclaimed sarcastically, “with Virgil’s love for the theatre!” 

 

“Look, I don’t know, dude,” Virgil shrugged, though it must’ve looked weird considering he had been shrinking into himself seconds ago. 

 

“Let’s calm down, alright?” Patton tried to calm the situation as always. Always the Dad friend even if he just met the people. Virgil sighed and dropped his head once again, this time pressing his forehead against the papers again. 

 

“Well, I’m Roman. I play baseball, do theater, and now this. I have three younger sisters.”

 

“Logan. Icebreakers are stupid so can we get back to reading?” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from snorting slightly though he kept his head pressed against the papers. He was starting to like Logan more and more, and starting to like Roman less and less. 

 

“Ugh, fine,” Roman grumbled as he grabbed his papers and began to read again. There wasn’t another word muttered for a long time. Virgil’s papers started to become a sea of letters. He wasn’t going to read for much longer. His mind was in and out of focus as he started thinking about other stuff; like those three guys surrounding him. They seemed nice (most of them), the people he would want as friends (again, most of them), people he could trust beside Remy. Sure, one was his brother and maybe that was giving him a false sense of security or not, but either way, he was fearing that he’d screw up something. 

 

He didn’t want to screw up; these were potential friends (or foes) and if he screwed up, it could affect T.H.O.M.A.S. badly. No. Virgil couldn’t afford to screw up. No.  No. No. No. If he were to—

 

A cap of a red pen hit his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up at Patton still trying to calm his heart down; that pen cap scared him way more than it should have.  _ You okay? _ Patton mouthed. 

 

Virgil glanced at the other two briefly; Roman was scribbling something in his arm, though from his spot in the floor, Virgil couldn’t see what.  _ Yeah _ , he mouthed back. 

 

_ You haven’t turned the page, _ Patton explained making the younger brother look down at his paper. Virgil had no problem reading, he was actually a really fast reader, so of course Patton would worry. He hadn’t turned the page for the last five minutes; his hand had been mindlessly doodling in the corner of the page. A bunch of tiny and crammed music notes in the corner and if Patton didn’t call his attention, the music notes would be starting to spread down the edges of the paper. 

 

_ I’m fine _ , the corner of his mouth tugged slightly into a small reassuring smile. Virgil turned the page and started reading the new one. Unconsciously he sat up, his ribs were starting to go numb from lying on the ground so long. He had one leg up close to his chest and the other one underneath it, forming a four. He rested his arms on top on his knee and continued reading. 

 

There was so much that they needed to do before they could even think about starting to cast and practice. Oh no, they needed to cast people for the roles. They needed to find the artistic people in the scientific school that weren’t part of theater or at least weren’t committed to theater at the moment. How were they going to find those?! They were almost non-existent at Whyte. It was the reason why T.H.O.M.A.S. was dying before they stepped in. 

 

Not only that, but they also had basically all the school against them. The principal didn’t want T.H.O.M.A.S., teachers thought it was a waste of time, and students didn’t want to participate. _ Oh, this will go great _ … Virgil thought sarcastically to himself. 

 

“Well that makes a whole lot more sense,” Logan broke the silence and the three looked at him. His eyes were still stuck on the paper. 

 

“What does?” Roman asked and Logan looked up at him. It was like Friday all over again. Logan forgot they were even there. 

 

Logan cleared his throat and began to read the paper on his hand. “ _ For the upcoming year, the participating schools must perform an original show written by a student or alumni (who graduated no more than two years ago). Young Theater is declaring this an eighteen (18) month long process and schools may start working on the show as early as the change of terms this year. _ ” Logan looked up at the three boys, all wearing the same discouraged faces. There was no way they could win now, especially against art-centered schools like Oube or Bazker High, another art school of the district. They were not only six months behind, they were also lacking the play, the actors, and T.H.O.M.A.S. was about to fall apart. 

 

“Please say that it’s an outdated paper,” Virgil almost begged. Logan shook his head as he pressed his lips into a thin line. 

 

“Mr. Kimms did his best to keep the papers in order… There’s even a planned budget.” Patton perked up to Logan’s words, a hopeful glint in his eyes that Virgil thought useless as Logan grabbed another paper in his pile. 

 

“That means he had a play?”

 

“No,” Logan hit the paper softly and Virgil dropped his head again, “he has an estimated budget and at the bottom scribbled  _ Missing Play _ .” They four were in silence for a second as Virgil looked up again slowly. He debated whether or not telling them that because of the fifteen year anniversary of Young Theater, all prizes would be doubled and that only the original schools would be able to compete that year. He chose against it. T.H.O.M.A.S. was crumbling in front of their ey–

 

“I could write it.” Virgil snapped his head to look at Roman who shrugged slightly. 

 

“This isn’t just some homework you can write last minute,” Virgil spoke up. If they were going to perform something, they needed something good. There was no way he’d be part of a half-assed project. “It’s real theater.”

 

“I know that,” Roman grumbled back and sneered at him. Virgil mocked him as Roman turned to look at the others, “but I do have a few things laying around my house…”

 

“Can you  _ really _ write this in six months? The others school had a year counting this semester,” Logan looked doubtful. He was probably thinking the same as Virgil. No matter how creative Roman was, there was no way he could write a whole musical in six months and make it a winner one. They had one shot. Were they really going to trust the club’s future on Roman’s ability to write? Was he even good at writing?! 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alright then… how good are you with music?”

 

Roman frowned, taken aback by Logan’s question, “why?”

 

“Oh, did I not read that?” Logan frowned and looked at Patton who was also confused by the question. The eldest Sanders shook his head slowly and Logan sighed in disappointment, probably disappointed on himself, and looked back at Roman with a calm expression, “It has to be a musical.”

 

“Oh, that’s fine,” Roman’s voice got a little high pitched but Virgil was the only one to notice it. He kept looking at the Sophomore even though they moved on with the conversation.  _ Didn’t Roman say he was in baseball  _ _ and _ _ theater? _ Virgil thought as he frowned looking away from Roman as to not seem like a creep. How in the world was this obviously busy dude going to write a show in such a short span?

 

Roman glanced down at his phone and perked up, “how about we meet again tomorrow and I’ll bring some ideas…”

 

“Don’t you have baseball practice tomorrow?” Virgil asked confused and Roman turned to him almost surprised. Did Roman really think he forgot the ice-breaker? It was almost all Virgil knew about Roman, of course he wouldn’t forget. 

 

“Hmm, true. Wednesday?” It was a unanimous agreement. “Wednesday it is.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Sweat beads appeared in his forehead as Roman rushed through the streets, trying to get to his sisters’ elementary school before the bell rang. His backpack felt ten times heavier than before because of the textbook for his math class and his English class… and also the invisible weight on his shoulders of writing a winning show in little time. He was more tired than he usually is with baseball practice. baseball was a piece of cake compared to running with his backpack on.

 

He came to a stop right in time to hear the bell of the elementary school ring. Unlike Whyte, not a single student walked out the front door. The classes were dismissed by grade, so Eliza was the first one to come out to the fenced basketball court where students waited to be picked up. A grin stretched on her face as she caught sight of her brother. Roman watched her wave goodbye to her teacher and sprint towards him, carefully carrying a… something… in her hands. Mrs. Cabrera was probably the nicest teacher that the school had to offer, always making sure to say hello and goodbye to Roman when he went to pick up the girls. Eliza was obviously Mrs. Cabrera’s favorite. 

 

“Ro! Ro! Look!” Roman kneeled to look at whatever Eliza was showing him. He tried to control his breathing so she wouldn’t notice that he ran there. “We made it during class today!” In her hands stood a tower made out of painted cardboard. It was surprisingly well made and looked a lot like Rapunzel’s tower in  _ Tangled _ . “Mrs. Cabrera helped me,” Eliza whispered with a mischievous tone. 

 

“You didn’t make it,” Roman shook his head, “obviously a professional artist did it…”

 

“No! I swear I did it!” Eliza giggle as she brushed away her bangs, “see? It has  _ my _ name in it!” She turned the tower over for him to read the messily scribbled name on the bottom. 

 

“Well, then you must be a professional artist!” Roman glanced up and noticed Mrs. Cabrera smiling fondly at them. As Eliza continued to admire her piece, Roman mouthed a soft  _ Thank you _ to the teacher, making her smiler widen and nod softly at him before heading inside the building. The two siblings didn’t have to wait much longer until Sandra walked out the building, a  _ I’m so done _ look on her face. “What happened to you, Grumpy Pants?”

 

“Can we just go home?” Sandra mumbled as Roman stood up, a small frown on his face. He placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder as Eliza looked at Sandra worried. It wasn’t often when Sandra would look so sad after school. 

 

“What happened?”

 

“Nothing,” she lied, “I’m just tired…” Eliza believed her. Roman didn’t.

 

“Oh, then let’s go home so you can nap, you’re moody when you’re tired,” without even waiting for them, Eliza started walking home with a pep to her step. Roman raised an eyebrow at Sandra but she wouldn’t meet his eye as the two started walking behind Eliza. The youngest did most of the talking on their way home, chatting their ears off, but at least as they got home Sandra didn’t look as sad as before. Margarita was more than excited to see her three siblings arrive, and the babysitter matched her excitement. 

 

“Thank you, Darcee,” he smiled as the babysitter grabbed her bag and put her shoes on. 

 

“See you pipsqueak,” Darcee high fived Margarita and then kneeled to whisper to her loud enough for everyone to hear her, “destroy him.” 

 

Margarita’s face instantly transformed from excited to absolute mischief as she looked at her brother. Roman’s eyes went wide. If Darcee was so eager to leave, it could only mean Margarita was hyper. “I’M THE—”

 

“No,” Roman cut her off quickly and picked Margarita up. He had homework to do, and even worse, he had two days to come up with a good idea. A couple-of-thousand-dollars worth idea. “We’ll…”  _ Think, think, think, think _ , “go to the park! Yes! The park!”

 

The three girls instantly brightened up. They began chanting and dancing around as Roman took the textbooks from his backpack and left them on the breakfast bar. He zipped the backpack, put it on, and wrote on a post it note for his mother to know where they would be. 

 

“Alright, let’s go.” The walk to the park wasn’t long, especially given that the two youngest ones were almost jogging to the park. It wasn’t a big park either; it had a castle, swings, monkey bars, even those weird animals on a spring. There were a couple of trees —a few oaks and willow trees— and dark wooden benches. “So… you gonna tell me what happened at school,  _ hermanita mia _ .”

 

“Please don’t,” Sandra cringed. She didn't hate Spanish, it was her second language after all, but she absolutely hated those two words. It meant  _ Sister of mine _ , which in English you would never use unless teasing or speaking like it was the fifteenth century. 

 

Roman chuckled and raised his hands in innocence, “sorry, sorry.” 

 

“There’s… there’s this kid,” she said as the two sat down under a willow tree. The other two were long lost on the plastic castle. “He sits behind me and he keeps pulling my hair and…” Sandra huffed in annoyance, “I told him to stop, but he won’t and —and—and my friends keep saying that he likes me…” 

 

“Sandy,” Roman turned to look at her with probably the most serious face he has ever given her, “if he really liked you, he wouldn’t hurt you, okay?”

 

“I know, but he won’t stop.” 

 

“Kid, you can scare the president if you wanted,” Roman smirked and Sandra chuckled softly, “tell him —really tell him— to stop.” 

 

“What if he doesn’t listen again?”

 

“Then I’ll go tell him,” Roman puffed out his chest and Sandra laughed, “he’ll listen to a prince!” Roman looked down at his laughing sister and smiled fondly before pulling her into a hug. Sandra shrieked and as she continued laughing, she tried to squirm away from her brother. “Gross!” 

 

“Excuse me?” Roman let her go and looked at her sassily. Did she just call him gross? “How dare you?”

 

Sandra laughed and this time she hugged him as the two calmed down. Roman rested his chin on top of her head, one of his hands cradling her head like he’d always do with his sisters. “How can you be so carefree?”  _ I wish _ Roman laughed in his mind, “you fit in everywhere… I don’t fit in anywhere…” 

 

“Sometimes, Sandy, standing out can be outstanding.” He pressed a kiss to her head and the words repeated themselves in his brain over and over, as if he had looped it. 

 

“Hmm, how are you so wise?” Sandra let go of the hug and smirked at him, “ah, it’s ‘cause you’re old, isn’t it?”

 

“ _ Andate a jugar, Mocosa _ ,” he scoffed making her laugh again. Sandra ran a hand through her loose hair as she stood up.  

 

“Thank you, Ro.” She sprinted away, calling Eliza and Margarita’s names. 

 

_ Standing out can be outstanding, standing out can be outstanding, standing out can be outstanding _

 

A soft gasp escaped his lips as he quickly digged through his backpack for his notebook and a pen. Clicking the pen as he looked for the empty pages with the other hand, Roman was quickly scribbling furiously. Jotting down every thought that crossed his mind, every scenario that he saw, everything. This was going to be his best work, his couple-of-thousand-dollars worth masterpiece. 

 

He didn’t notice the sun go down until a tired Margarita plopped down beside him and leaned all her weight on his arm, almost falling asleep. Eliza and Sandra didn’t take much longer to join them and Roman finally looked up. He had used half of his blank pages, all crammed with tiny scribbles. “Home?” 

 

“ _ Yes _ .” The girls agreed in unison making him chuckle. More ideas were still running through his brain as they walked home; unlike the walk to the park, it was silent. The girls too tired to say anything, Roman too focused on his thoughts to prompt them to talk.

 

As soon as they got home, the girls changed into their pajamas and after a quick dinner, waved good night and went to sleep. By the time Roman remembered he had to read to them, the three were long gone and snoring softly. He didn’t move from the kitchen, despite the very uncomfortable seats, until his mother opened the door almost two and a half hours later. 

 

He had been transferring everything from the notebook to the laptop that the school provided as one of the main materials for classes. He even had a rough outline, list of characters, and even a rough —extremely rough— first draft of some scenes. 

 

“Roman Daniel Ignacio Minett,” the scolding tone on his mother’s voice was what brought him out of Writing City. He turned around to look at her so fast that his back popped loudly; he had been hunched close to his screen, not wanting to get distracted by anything, “it’s about to be midnight and you’re still in the computer.” 

 

“Hey Roman, how was your day? Great, mine was fine too!” He mumbled as he turned around to keep typing. He was so used to multitask when writing (such as talking to Helena or answering Margarita’s unceasing questions) that he could type and talk without a problem. 

 

“What are you doing, Ro?” Roman loved that nickname when Helena said it. Unconsciously, she would roll the R, making it sound powerful. It was silly, but nevertheless he liked it. 

 

“Nothing, just an… um… a thing for T.H.O.M.A.S…” he continued typing, his fingers almost flying over the keys. 

 

“Who’s Thomas?” 

 

“No, that’s the, uh, the… name of the club I’m, um, in.” Alright, he was used to multitask but not when he was so focused on what he was writing. This was a major thing, he couldn’t lose any time talking to his mother. 

 

“Funny, I thought you joined to have an excuse to get a second job,” Helena mentioned it off-hand and the clicking stopped immediately, as if he had been driving a fast car and a wall suddenly appeared in front of him. She turned away from the fridge to find him staring at her perplexed. 

 

“How did you know?”

 

Helena chuckled, “because I had you nine months in me.” God, that was such a mom answer. Roman sighed as he closed the laptop, crossed his arms on top and rested his chin in them, his back popping again from moving.

 

“Sorry…”

 

“Don’t,” Helena reached over the bar and planted a kiss on his head, “I’m happy to see you so invested on something.” Roman smiled slightly as he closed his eyes briefly, just listening his mother bustle around the cramped kitchen. “What are you working on?”

 

“A musical.”

 

“What about?”

 

“A dude,” Roman yawned and Helena turned to look at him incredulous because of the answer. Roman was starting to doze off, still hunched of the breakfast bar. 

 

“Ro? Honey?” Helena shook the teenager, who opened his eyes and sat up straighter startled. “Go to bed.” 

 

“But—”

 

“You can continue that tomorrow, now to bed.” Roman didn’t argue anymore. If he did, he would get dragged to his room by his mother. He plopped down in bed, not bothering to change, and Helena pulled the covers on him. He was out like a light. His mother pressed a kiss to his forehead and smiled, “night, my prince.” 

  
  


——————

 

Not much happened for a month. They would meet twice a week, Mondays and Wednesdays, until Roman had to go pick up his sisters. Roman shared the basics that Wednesday but they didn’t talk about the show more than that. The meetings had been strictly about properly starting the club. Meeting days, hours, who the club advisor would be (turns out that because Young Theater is an outside organization, they don’t need said teacher); they planned the publicity to get people interested, made sure all their papers were accordingly, made sure everyone knew at least a tiny bit of each section (financial, business, management, history, etc), and a lot more. 

 

The relationships between the group didn’t change either. Logan was still distant and cold, Virgil and Roman still didn’t get along, and Patton was still the happy-go-lucky guy of always. They didn’t talk outside of the meetings even though Logan and Patton shared AP Psych (and basically sat together) and neither did Virgil and Roman despite having History together. Everything stayed the same. Including the fact that the show was never mentioned. 

 

Logan would ask at the beginning “ _ The play, how is it? _ ” 

 

And Roman would answer, “ _ It’s going. _ ” But that’s about it. Not another squeak about it. Roman had managed to figure the storyline, staying awake late (way too late) as he wrote and rewrote scenes over and over. He was never a hundred percent happy with the result. But he had the basics of the play… now came what was stressing him out: 

 

_ Roman doesn’t know how to compose music _ . 

 

He could sing fine, and could write lyrics just as fine, but composing the melody? Nuh-huh. For christ’s sake, he didn’t even play an instrument! How was he supposed to write the musical part of the musical if he didn’t know how to?! 

 

And he couldn’t tell the others. He was far too deep in his overachiever confident facade for him to come clean to the other three. He tried humming songs into existence, humming a tune to the lyrics, but they came out choppy, crappy… Not worth thousand dollars. Not worth a penny. He could ask the music teacher for a couple of pointers but he never had time. Between working on Wednesdays and weekends, having baseball every day but Wednesdays, and now T.H.O.M.A.S.? He barely had time to breathe. Also, his sisters took a lot of his time, with homework, dinner, bedtime, picking up and dropping off, playing, helping… it was becoming a lot. 

 

He was quickly being swallowed by life. So, he decided to stop that Thursday. He told Darcee that he wouldn’t come home until way later than usual (which she was thankfully fine with); he told Eliza and Sandra to take the school bus home; he didn't have practice until six p.m.. So he just stopped. 

 

Roman went to the auditorium after class and sat down in the middle seat. Not a single light on. Just him, the empty stage, and his paper. Maybe actually being in an auditorium would help his creative juices. He needed to finish the musical, or at least a first draft. After that it’d be much simpler. He’d have a base, a starting point.

 

Well, the creative juices didn’t come up as thoughts. He was so lost in rewriting a lyric that he had written thousands of time by now that Roman didn’t notice the doors opening. Nor did he hear someone walking to the stage. He had accidentally blended into the shadows, despite his white, red, and gold hoodie. He didn’t notice anything until the lights on stage turned on. He snapped his head up to look at the stage in confusion and, to be honest, a bit of fear. He thought he was alone. 

 

In the middle of the empty stage was a grand piano, black, with the little bench there. The light reflected softly off the smooth and shiny wood. He heard steps and soon someone came into view. 

 

You see, Virgil was the  _ last _ person Roman thought he’d see in a situation like this. Alone, in a stage, about to sit on the little bench. Part of Roman wanted to speak up, the other part didn’t. He didn’t make a single noise. He just… observed. 

 

Virgil looked different. He shoulders were relaxed, his hands were in his pockets, and for once his headphones weren’t in sight. He was even standing straighter despite that he was looking at the ground. He sat at the piano and Roman leaned forward, curious of Virgil’s next move. There was no way the emo kid could play— 

 

Notes soon filled the air of the empty auditorium, and no matter how much Roman disliked that kid, even he had to admit Virgil had a talent. He was  _ really _ good at playing piano. He wasn’t using any music sheets either, and it was a considerably fast song. And then he heard  _ it _ . 

 

At first, Roman thought he was hallucinating. Maybe that was it. He was –for some reason– hallucinating Virgil playing piano. He thought this because of how low it was but as he silently closed his notebook and put in on his backpack, he realized he wasn’t insane: Virgil Sanders was  _ singing.  _ Sure, it was in such a low volume Roman thought he was crazy, but as he grabbed his backpack and walked closer to the stage, he noticed the guy was actually singing. And he wasn’t bad. At all. 

 

Roman was more than perplexed; he was speechless. He didn’t say anything until the song slowed down into a stop. “Holy smokes.”

 

Virgil let out a screech in fear as he turned to look at Roman, his hand going over his heart after hitting basically every key in the piano by accident. “What are you doing here?!” Virgil yelled at him seemingly angered. Roman, for once, didn’t care about his anger.

 

“You’re really good! What? How? When? I— what?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Same to you Cloudy Night.”

 

Virgil growled under his breath as his breathing regulated.  _ I must’ve really scared him _ . “I’m waiting for Patton to pick me up.” Didn’t the brothers bike together to school? Virgil must’ve noticed his confusion and sighed, “today was the Senior picture day? Across the river?”

 

Right. Of course. It was mid October; Seniors would be taking the class picture across the river. Roman had been so distracted he didn’t even noticed the missing Seniors during classes. 

 

“Wait, how do you know how to play piano?”

 

“I’m not useless you know?” Virgil muttered under his breath as he closed the cover over the keys. 

 

“Well, duh,” Roman rolled his eyes, “you are, like, the smartest of our history class.” Virgil frowned at him in confusion. “What?”

 

“You’re so weird…”

 

“Gee, thanks.”

 

“One minute you’re insulting me, then complimenting me.” Virgil shook his head and stood up, walking towards his backpack that lied by the curtain. He put it on as he started to walk away. Roman didn’t know how to answer to that, or what to say next. So Virgil was almost by the side stairs when Roman spoke up. 

 

“Wait, I need your help.” Oof. He hated those words. He really, really, hated those words. Asking for helping means not being good enough, and if Roman wasn’t good enough, he would fail his family, his team, his friends, his teachers… yeah. Those words left a bitter taste in his tongue. Virgil was frozen by the stairs and he slowly turn to Roman. 

 

“What?”

 

“I…” Roman took a deep breath and sighed in resignation, “I need your help.” 

 

“On what?” Virgil frowned, his lips curling into a sneer. He probably thought Roman was about to make fun of him, which in other situation would be about right, but not at the moment. “You’re practically perfect in every sense, Princey.” 

 

Roman ignored the nickname and sighed, “Ican’tcomposemusic.” He spoke through his teeth and lowly. 

 

“Huh?”

 

“I,” Roman cleared his throat and looked at him directly. He was a ‘prince’ for goodness sake, he should act like one, “don’t know how to compose music.” He sighed defeatedly. “Go on, make fun of me.” 

 

“And you’re writing our musical?” Roman blinked taken aback. He just gave him prime material to make fun of him. Why didn’t he make fun of him? “Are you joking?”

 

“I wish,” Roman sighed and plopped down in the pianist bench, “I have the lyrics, kind of, and the story… but melodies?” he chuckled defeated as he look down at the wooden boards of the stage. “I need… help… with the music.” 

 

“Can you play any instrument Roman?” Virgil asked curiously as he walked a bit closer to him, still keeping a good amount of distance between the two. 

 

“Nope.” 

 

Virgil didn’t say anything for a few seconds before he walked closer to him, dropping his backpack against one of the legs of the piano, and sitting next to Roman on the bench, except he was looking at the piano. “Well, that’s a matter for another day, Sir Sing-A-Lot, we have music to write.” Virgil said awkwardly and Roman chuckled softly. He was trying his best to cheer him up and, in a weird way, he did. “What do you have so far?” Roman handed him the sheets with lyrics and as Virgil read them over (and the notes in red pen about the pace of the songs), Roman looked at him. 

 

“Thank you, Virge.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Patton sat down in his usual spot that Friday morning with an uncharacteristic sad sigh, one that even Logan –who rarely paid attention to social cues– noticed. He wasn’t one to mention things like that, and he had never even tried to strike a conversation with the Senior outside of the auditorium, but it simply wasn’t normal for Patton to be so… dejected. 

 

“Salutations Patton,” it was soft, only for Patton to hear, as Logan grabbed his notebook and pen from his backpack. Patton turned to look at him surprised, a mask of fake cheerfulness quickly covering his sad expression. 

 

“Oh, hey Lo!” he grinned at Logan. 

 

“How are you today?” 

 

“I’m great, what about you.”

 

“Likewise,” and that’s how long the conversation lasted. Neither said another word as Patton turned to look back to the white board, slumping ever so slightly into his chair as he fiddled with something in his hands. Logan just watched him. Surely, he must have seemed stalkerish to other students, but who out of the three athletes chatting in the back of the room would pay enough attention to notice? His fingers were twiddling with his phone, not really using it for more than a replacement of a fidget spinner. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and guessing by how usually Patton sits, it was hurting him though he didn’t care. 

 

It didn’t take long for Emile to arrive, with his usual enthusiastic face and humming a song to himself. It didn’t take long for him to notice Patton’s quiet demeanor, either. His face instantly fell as he hurried towards his desk, worry covering every inch of his face. He quickly started talking in hushed tones, Emile wrapping an arm around Patton’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Logan tuned out after that. He wasn’t going to eavesdrop even if they were right next to him. It wasn’t right. 

 

Class went by normally. Kind of. Logan was only half listening as his mind wandered off to what could possibly have the happy-go-lucky guy in front of him to be so sad… What was he even thinking? Why did Logan care about the guy? They were barely teammates for T.H.O.M.A.S., and rarely talked. He was just another classmate.

 

He probably didn’t even care about Logan. There was no reason for him to do so. Patton was one of the best students at Whyte; good enough that if the school did the whole Picture In The Wall of Honor thing that movies always had, Patton’s face would be up there the four years. He also didn't have problem with interacting with others. People smiled when they saw him, instead of scowling like they do when they see Logan. It made sense that Patton wouldn’t care about Logan… He had given the guy no reason to do so… Logan just wasn’t good enough. No shock there, though. He had never been and probably never would. He was a good student, but he wasn’t perfect. He didn’t understand social cues; memes were the bane of his existence, and sarcasm was sometimes… difficult. 

 

The bell rang one last time before Logan realized what had just happened. He had gone through his whole day without even noticing. He had been so worried about his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the classes passing by. His phone beeped. 

 

**RAE**

**Ditched early**

 

Oh, great. Now he had to drive home with the thoughts mulling over his brain. He had more important things to worry about but for some reason he couldn’t think about anything else. Just Patton’s sad sigh and how useless it was to worry about Patton since Patton wouldn’t even spare Logan a thought. Great. 

 

**RAE**

**Dinner? Parents left for the weekend.**

 

Alright. Maybe Mare could knock some sense into him. Or pester him about his supposed ‘crush’ on Patton, which he didn’t have. Whichever was great, both would help him to stop overthinking. Overthinking is never good. 

 

**OXFORD**

**I’ll be there. Just, no carrots**

 

**RAE**

**Bore!**

 

Logan walked out through the main doors after the initial wave of students. By the time he was outside, it was fairly empty. A couple of students were standing in the shade of some trees, waiting to be picked up, but other than that it was empty. Buses had left too, and the students that walked home were long gone by now. He rarely took that route to the student parking lot; there’s an entrance in the side of the building that was a direct connection to the parking lot, so that’s the one he usually used. But since everything was practically empty, and that Logan wanted to clear his head before driving to Mare’s house, he walked the ‘scenic’ path. 

 

The front of the school was beautiful —from an architectural point of view. The landscape wasn’t bad either; couple of trees, flower-less bushes in order to avoid having bees sting students that are allergic, and a few waist-high pillars. There was a roundabout, where the buses would wait, and at the other side of the roundabout was a ribs-height concrete cream-colored wall, with the name of the school carved into it. 

 

Patton was sitting on it. Shoulders slouched, looking into the highway that ran between Whyte and Oube. 

 

Logan just couldn’t take a break from the spectacled guy, could he? He was about to keep on his way when a thought popped up: Where’s Virgil? It was rare to see Patton without Virgil by his side after the last bell. Logan knew they biked together to school and biked back… which raises another question: why is Patton still here? If he has a bike, why isn’t he on his way back home?

 

Weighing options, Logan ended up walking towards Patton. “I would’ve thought you’d be eager to leave for the weekend.” 

 

Patton jumped slightly from his spot and turned to look at Logan; a chuckle escaping his lips as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You scared me.”

 

“Apologies.”

 

“I…” Patton paused for a second, “I thought it’d be nice to just stay here for a while. The sun’s out,” he pointed out. In the morning, heavy rain had poured down and even though it hadn’t seemed like it would stop, now there wasn’t a cloud to be spotted near them. Logan noticed there was no bike near Patton.  _ Must’ve taken the bus _ . “Fresh air never killed anyone.” 

 

“I simply thought you’d be out with Emile or something, it is Friday after all,” Logan leaned forward, resting in the wall. Both were looking at the zooming cars on the highway.

 

“He has an interview today,” Patton explained briefly, “and Virgil’s out with his best friend.” His voice was quiet, well, not quiet but quieter than usual. Logan looked him but Patton didn’t even notice. 

 

Patton had chubbier cheeks, giving him the whole innocent vibe, and was covered from head to toes in freckles. His hair was curlier than wave but straighter than actual curls; it was shorter on the side and longer in middle, and guessing by the hair band he always wore on his wrist, it was most likely long enough to pull it back into a small ponytail or bun. He had glasses (which were scarily similar to the ones Logan had), black thick rims. His eyes were a darker shade of blue than Logan’s, though Logan had been always told that it was impossible for someone to have naturally his eye color. He wasn’t very tall either, 5’10 at most, unlike Logan’s six foot height. All in all, Patton wasn’t bad looking. But that’s not what Logan was focusing on at the moment; he was more attentive to Patton’s slow breathing, a technique Logan has used himself before to stop either an anxiety attack or crying. 

 

Guessing by how easily he was talking, Logan opted that it was the latter option. He walked around the wall and took a seat beside Patton, before looking at him again. He was taking deep slow breaths. “Are you alright?” 

 

“Hmm?” Patton turned to the younger guy, “oh, yeah, yeah…” 

 

Logan didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him. He was obviously not going to say anything, and in some ways Logan was grateful of that. He didn’t exactly know how to deal with feelings, Mare was better at that. Patton took one last long breath, stretched his back, and turned to look at Logan, the same fake cheerful mask on his face as he offered him a smile. 

 

“I should start heading home,” Patton jumped off the wall and dusted his pants slightly. 

 

“Are you walking home?” Patton nodded with a slight shrug, “I could take you if you’d like.”  _ I could what, Logan?! Since when do I offer rides? _

 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine walking,” Patto brushed his hair away from his forehead, though the messy curls flopped back into place. “I wouldn’t want to be bother.” 

 

“Patton,” Logan sighed softly though the smallest of smiles tugged at his lips, “you wouldn’t be a bother.” Patton looked down at the floor briefly and Logan started wondering if he had crossed the line. They rarely talked, or maybe it was that Patton just didn’t want to be with him. It would make sense. Before Logan could say anything, the eldest was looking back up at him with, for the first time all day, a sincere smile. 

 

“That’d be great then,” Logan hopped off the wall and started leading him towards the student parking lot. The drive was mainly silent, neither feeling like starting a conversation. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was just silent. “Sorry if I seemed rude in during Psych,” Patton finally spoke up in a quiet voice, still looking out the window. Aside from giving directions, that was the first thing he said. 

 

“Oh, it’s alright, Patton.”

 

“No, it’s not,” his voice was so low that Logan almost missed the frustrated words.

 

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

 

“I… it’s been a week,”  _ Well, not wrong there _ , Logan thought before thinking that it was another expression that he didn’t understand. “And… and I try my best to just be positive through it, you know? Ignore the sadness until it leaves?”

 

Logan blinked twice frowning. He glanced briefly at Patton; his face was scrunched up in frustration as he played with the hair band. “That’s not healthy, Patton.”

 

Patton scoffed, “well, it’s worked the last four years perfectly well, hasn’t it?” He added with a saddened voice. What had Logan gotten himself into? He wasn’t one to talk about feelings yet he, somehow, managed to get himself stuck in that situation. 

 

“Has it?”

 

Patton didn’t answer so Logan glanced briefly at him, only to notice the slow breathing technique again. Patton was discreetly pressing a finger to the spot between his collarbones, as if it would relieve a pressure. It was scaring Logan how much he and Patton had in common. Both obviously didn’t like talking about feelings that much other than to those who they trust the most (Mare in Logan’s case). They both had learned it how to stop themselves from crying, how to utilize the breathing exercises… 

 

“We’re here, the blue house,” Patton pointed at a house in between a light brown house and a dark brown house. Logan pulled up to the house, noticing that there were no cars on the driveway; he put the car on parking and as Patton grabbed his backpack and went to thank Logan, he spoke first. 

 

“You're on the verge of an anxiety attack,” Logan pointed out. Patton’s hand were fidgeting, one with the hair band and the other one by scratching his knuckles.

 

“Of course I am,” Patton chuckled mainly to himself, as if it wasn’t a surprise that he was about to have an anxiety attack, “it’s the only thing I haven’t had this week.” Logan stretched his fingers and turned off the car. As much as Logan hated to talk feelings, he could let Patton go and have an attack in his seemingly empty house. He had been there before and it did not feel good. 

 

“What happened this week?”

 

It was almost as if Logan had opened a dam. Soon enough Patton was spilling everything; his worries, his problems, his thoughts and doubts. But not in the ‘oh, look at my miserable life’, it was more of a ‘this is happening and I don’t know how to fix it’. Like when you need to talk outloud to process things and come out with a plan. 

 

“Maybe it’s just an accumulation of things; I’ve been receiving no after no for the last four years… I’ll probably never get into college since everyone is too busy to write recommendation letters for me. Not that it matters since I’m not even good enough for college. Or working, apparently! I think I’m the only Senior to have never worked in his life because everyone keeps saying no. No wonder Jamie left and T.H.O.M.A.S. is falling apart… it’s just a lot and I shouldn’t be telling you this because I don’t want to bother you and,” Patton rambled on, some tears slipping down his cheeks every now and then, which he furiously wiped. He had spoken so fast that even Logan had had a bit of trouble understanding. But it also raised so many questions. “Sorry, I’ll just go. Thank you for the ri—”

 

Patton was halfway through getting out of the car when Logan grabbed his forearm, stopping him. 

 

“Again, you’re not —and I doubt you can ever be— a bother,” Patton sat down but left the door open. Logan was facing him but Patton had just slumped on his seat, “most of what you just said, it’s normal senior stress. There’s so much pressure on you because of college, that you overthink things,” now Logan was basically just mimicking Mare’s words. He had been worrying about the same things since Freshman because he always worried that he wouldn’t be enough for his parents. “Maybe you got a no now but you’ll get a yes in the future.”

 

Patton finally turned to look at Logan, wiping away another couple of stray tears. 

 

“You’re letting your bad day cloud your thoughts for the future.” Logan had one family member that never cared about Logan’s academic success, his grandmother. Back when he was younger, much much younger, he’d tried to do complex math and fail miserably. He would think that he would never understand any of it, that he would fail his family and he’d be stuck working a miserable job for the rest of eternity. His grandmother told him the same quote; he was six. Of course he wouldn’t be able to do complex math. Those words didn’t appear often in his mind, “and whoever this Jamie is, maybe you are better off without them —and I don’t mean it like others would say. Perhaps all this negative thinking could be tied back to this… Jamie.”

 

“Jamie was my boyfriend of a year and a half.” Patton almost whispered.  _ Oh _ .  _ Oh! _ No wonder he was so negative! He was experiencing emotional imbalance. His ‘normality’ had suddenly flipped upside down. 

 

“Tell me, Patton, are you aromantic?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then, statistically, there’s a hundred percent chance you will end up dating again,” a small smile appeared in Patton’s face as he let out a mixture between a sob and a chuckle. “Your cognitive distortions have been heightened by this emotional unbalance. Things can and will get better.

 

“And regarding T.H.O.M.A.S., Patton,” Logan added, “you’re not alone. There’s four of us for a reason. We all have a side, a job, to do if we want it to work.” 

 

Patton smiled softly and wiped the last remnants of tears, “Thank you, Logan.”

 

“No problem, Patton.” Patton smiled brighter than before. He got off the car, thanked Logan again (was  _ Thank You _ Patton’s favorite words?), and waved at him before heading inside. As soon as Patton closed his door, Logan drove off towards Mare’s house.

 

His mind was a tornado of different thoughts. Starting by the fact that he had managed to have a ‘feelings’ conversation without blanking or panicking. Sure, most of his words had been borrowed from other conversations, but he still meant them. Second, how could someone so positive switch to someone so negative? He knew emotions changed, he was human after all, but he had never seen a change so sudden. Patton went from happy-go-lucky to Virgil-mode (no offense to Virgil). And then the third thought, why had Logan helped him?!

 

His house came into view and he parked in the empty driveway. His parents were probably at work or at a meeting. Mare’s parents weren’t home either, and the other neighbors weren’t home either, so the street was pretty empty. Light rain had started falling in the ten minute drive to his home from Patton’s house. 

 

Given that Mare’s parents weren’t home, Logan didn’t bother knocking the door. It was always open anyways. 

 

As soon as he opened the door, Mare began speaking. She was sitting on her sofa, wrapped in a gray blanket, watching  _ Sherlock _ . “Well, you took a long ti—” she turned to look at him, “what happened?”

 

“I’m not quite sure,” he admitted as he sat down beside her. Mare quickly paused the TV and turned to look at him, tugging the blanket to keep herself covered. “I talked to Patton.”

 

“Sanders?  _ That _ Patton?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m proud of you, talking to your crush? That’s a huge step—” Mare’s teasing was stopped by a cushion. 

 

“I do not have a ‘crush’ on Patton.” Logan said slowly before explaining everything that happened. Mare was listening intently and not making any comments; she probably wanted to keep those until the end. Even speaking about what had just happened seemed insane considering it was Logan the one who gave the pep talk. 

 

He didn’t admit it, not even to himself, but his conversation left a warm spot on him. Sure, he rarely talked about feelings and things like that. But being able to give a pep talk, to make someone’s day better, it left a nice feeling. The kind that makes you want to smile. Logan didn’t smile, of course. 

 

“Alright, I’ll give it to you,” Mare spoke up once Logan finished explaining, “someone as clueless as you can’t have a crush on Mr. Emotions. And, as to what happened, is that you care for them.”

 

“Well, of course I do, they are my classmates.”

 

“No,” Mare shook her head, “you don’t care for your classmates the way you care for these three guys. You’re keeping secrets from your parents, leading a club your parents specifically told you to avoid, just because of these guys.”

 

“I didn’t—” he didn’t continue the sentence. He  _ had _ fought for T.H.O.M.A.S. just for Patton despite not knowing him that well, and he had been lying to his parents just to meet with the three guys. 

 

“What I’m saying, Oxford, is that this isn’t going to be the last time something like this happens,” Mare smirked, “which means soon enough you’ll be having heartfelt moments with your teammates.” She teased. 

 

Logan rolled his eyes and hit her again with the cushion, “you’re insufferable.”

 

“I know,” Mare shrugged snickering, “I want to meet these guys. If they’re making my best friend go soft, I need to meet them!” 

 

Logan sighed and rubbed his temple making Mare laugh louder. Of course she would start teasing him. But all in all, she did have some good insight. He was bound to care for his teammates; they were, in weird and unusual way, his knew friends. 

 

“Where is your brother?”

 

“We already talked about this Logan, you  _ can’t  _ date my brother,” Logan looked at Mare with a murderous look in his eyes. Of course she was having the time of her life teasing him. It was her only joy. Logan wasn’t murdering her right there and then simply because prison would be such an inconvenience. “He’s out too, sleepover or something like that… don’t know, don’t care.” Mare turned to look at the TV and pressed play.

 

“Aren’t you the exemplar older sister?”

 

“Shut up and pay attention to Cumberbatch’s cheekbones.”


	9. Chapter 9

Screw hallways. God, how he hated high school hallways. His middle school had been divided by ‘halls’, kind of like how Hogwarts is divided in houses. Virgil and Remy had been in Red Hall, Patton too when he was in middle school, so their classes had been within fifteen feet of each other. There wasn’t such a thing as having to navigate his way through crowded hallways from class to class. Especially since it was the end of the day, everyone was taking their sweet time on moving. Virgil wasn’t tall either, so he was constantly getting trampled by the others. 

 

His usual fight-or-flight mode had been activated (a.k.a. he was on the verge of having an anxiety attack). He was on flight mode, scurrying between people whenever he could, but the more exasperated he grew, the more he wanted to punch people. Especially Juniors. For goodness sake, Juniors were simply the worst. They hated on the Freshmen the most, without a reason, and made it known by pushing the shorter ones around. 

 

Virgil was ranting on his mind, his hand tightly clutching the straps on his backpack, when he was almost slammed against the lockers. A small gasp escaped his lips before looking up at the guy towering over him. A knot appeared on his throat and his jaw tightened as he saw two dull grey eyes bore into his own. Dante. 

 

“Hey, Babe.” A blush creeped up Virgil’s cheeks. 

 

“Get away from me, Dante.”

 

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Virgil tired to duck away from Dante, mix back into the crowd. He noticed some people awe at the scene; they looked like straight out of a movie. Dante’s hand pressing on the lockers right above Virgil’s head, the two dangerously —and uncomfortably— close, Dante’s flirtatious smirk. Of course it looked cute. Except for Virgil’s uncomfortable stance, obviously anxious face, and disgusted eyes. He wanted to get as far from him as possible. Dante grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into him before Virgil could escape him. “We both know you want me — you need me.”

 

Virgil got closer to him, his hands turning into fists as he blood began to boil. He whispered harshly, never losing eye contact. “Get. The. Fuck. Away. Fro—”

 

Dante caught his lips with his own. Virgil’s eyes flew wide open and he quickly pressed his hands against Dante’s chest as he tried to push the guy away but there’s a disadvantage of being short and thin: you usually don’t have a lot of strength. Especially against the wrestler of the school. With a last burst of energy, Virgil pushed him away and quickly wiped his mouth. Both went to speak at the same time when a third voice interrupted them. 

 

“Ah! Virgil! There you are!” Virgil’s head snapped instantly to Roman’s voice. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

 

“You have?”

 

“There’s a problem with the song,” Roman started talking as if Dante wasn’t there. He grabbed Virgil by the forearm, a much lighter grip than Dante’s in his other arm, and began to pull him away, “I don’t like it. The melody’s off and the lyrics are—”

 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck are you?” Dante barked as he stepped closer to Roman.

 

“Roman Minett, friend of Virgil, and you are?”

 

“Friend? Virgil doesn’t have friends.”

 

“Ah,” Roman nodded softly to himself, “So that’s who you are. An asshole.” Virgil couldn’t do anything else but watch the exchange. He was frozen in his spot. Each Sophomore holding one of his arms. “How do you two know each other?”

 

“Middle school.”

 

“Well, enough chit chat, Virgil and I have much to do in little time,” with a more forceful tug, Roman managed to rip Virgil away from Dante and wrapped an arm around his shoulder in a relaxed manner. “Goodbye.” Without waiting for another word, Roman turned around and led Virgil away from Dante. 

 

Virgil was shaking and felt like crying. There was a knot of his throat, his eyes itched, and his hands were shaking inside the pockets of his hoodie. He looked down to the floor as he tried to control his own breathing. As soon as the were far away enough from Dante, Roman dropped his arm and stopped. 

 

“What’s— what’s wrong with the song?” Virgil cleared his throat to stop his voice from cracking. 

 

“What? Nothing,” Virgil frowned confused but didn’t look up. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine… I…” he ran his hands through his hair exasperatedly, “Why did you stop him? I mean —I mean thank you but…”

 

“Well, you didn’t look exactly happy kissing him,” chuckled Roman making Virgil look up, “and I don’t want to say that I’m an expert of love —which I am— but you’re not supposed to be scared of your boyfriend.” That managed to get out a chuckle out of Virgil as he finally looked up to the older boy. “Who is he?”

 

“My ex-boyfriend, Dante.” The two began to walk towards the main entrance. 

 

“Wait, time out,” Roman placed his hands in a T as he turned to look at Virgil, “how old are you?”

 

“Fourteen.” Roman’s eyes went wide. Virgil was part of the younger ones in his year, he didn’t turn fifteen until December. “What?” Virgil asked defensive. He knew he was young but what was so wrong with it?

 

“Fourteen and you already had a boyfriend?” Roman let out a low whistle, “dude, you got game.” Virgil’s cheeks flared up red and he went back to look at the floor. He didn’t have  _ game _ ; he was awkward. And anxious. And brash. “Though I gotta say —awful choice for a boyfriend. Why did you guys break up?” 

 

“He was… not ideal,” Virgil scoffed as the two left the school and started walking towards the sign in front of the school, “only pulled me down and insult me…”

 

“Sounds fun,” Roman’s sarcastic comment made Virgil chuckle again. He passed a sweater paw, or in this case a hoodie paw, under his eyes, wiping the small tears away. He had been so sure that he’d never have to see Dante’s face ever again; Dante wasn’t supposed to attend Whyte. He didn’t even live in the same school district anymore. “Hey, Virgil?”

 

“Hmm?” Virgil noticed that Roman was looking down a at him. He looked kind of doubtful before shaking his head. 

 

“Nevermind,” Roman quickly switched back into his dramatic and happy self, “now that we are here, why don’t we work on the songs?” 

 

To be honest, all Virgil wanted to do was go home and hide. He wanted to get Dante out of his system, out of his mind, and— he wasn’t going to do that if he went home.  He was going to overthink about Dante, not sleep, and hide away from his parents. But he didn’t want to go to Roman’s either. Not because he hated him or because he was nervous, he just didn’t want Roman to see him breakdown. He didn’t want to embarrass himself. 

 

“We don’t have to if you don’t feel like it,” Roman quickly exclaimed, noticing Virgil’s doubtful self. It was like two weeks ago in the theater all over again. Roman nervous for some reason and Virgil doubting. Except that back at the theater, Virgil had been weighing outcomes. He had decided to stay and help Roman from the second Roman asked for help. It was in Virgil’s nature, and now the closer they got (with both Roman and the group itself), the more he felt like he needed to protect them and help them… despite not being that great at either. 

 

“Yeah, sure…” Virgil gave him a tight lipped smile and Roman grinned, “but do you even have instruments?” 

 

Roman frowned and thought. Virgil noticed how by frowning, Roman had pressed his lips together tightly and wiggled them every so often. “I think my mom has a guitar.” Roman glanced at his watch like he usually did during T.H.O.M.A.S. meetings, and quickly looked up to Virgil, an innocent smile in his face. “Mind if we pick up my sisters before?”

 

“I’m not going to say no, Roman.”

 

“Shall we, then?” Virgil motion for Roman to lead the way. They didn’t speak for the majority of the way as they approached the elementary school. Virgil just listened to the wet leaves crunching under their feet, their footsteps, the tires of cars kicking water up, and the low whistle of the wind. It was almost rhythmic. Mindlessly, Virgil began to hum along and it wasn’t long before Roman noticed the melody. “Hey, that’s not bad!”

 

“Thank you, I was striving for  _ not bad _ ,” Virgil answer was almost instantaneous, “what’s  _ not bad _ ?”

 

“That melody you were just humming,” Roman answer in an obvious tone. He then hummed the same tune Virgil had been humming but Virgil just looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Roman continued humming the song as the approached the elementary. Almost at the same time, the bell rang and first graders came out. Virgil didn’t know a single kid but many were waving at Roman. “Wait here.” 

 

Virgil watched as Roman sped walked towards the black fence that kept the children separated from the rest. A first grader slammed the fence door open before throwing herself to Roman’s neck; his arms went instantly around her waist as he stood up to full height and lifted her off. It was a cute scene. Cute enough that Virgil’s lips stretch slightly into his trademark smirk. 

 

He waited by a stone bench, where Roman had left him, until the fifth graders came out a little after first graders. Another girl approached the siblings, obviously their sister, in a much calmer way. She waved her friends goodbye and walked next to Roman as the three approached Virgil. There was no doubt that they were siblings. All of them had the same colored hair, similar eyes, same tanned skin, and the three seemed overly enthusiastic. The first one to notice Virgil was the fifth grader, who instantly frowned. “Who’s that?”

 

The first grader’s head snapped in some inhuman speed to look at Virgil, who just wanted to shrink and disappear from her gaze. She gasped and looked at Roman; since he was still carrying her, she looked at Roman in the eye. “He’s your Leo, isn’t he?!” 

 

“No,” Roman chuckled as they arrived to where Virgil stood, “this is Virgil, he’s in T.H.O.M.A.S. with me.” 

 

“Oh,” the fifth grader smirked up to Roman before looking at Virgil. She was way too intimidating for a fifth grader, “so you’re the one Roman’s been talking about. I’m Sandra.” Virgil shook her extended hand with a soft chuckle. 

 

“You talk about me?”

 

“About the club, Mr. Edgeton,” Roman bit back as he put the youngest on the floor. Virgil nodded sarcastic. 

 

“I’m Eliza,” the youngest smiled proudly, one of her front teeth was missing but, unlike Virgil when he was her age, she didn’t seem ashamed of it. Virgil didn’t talk that much during those years, “you’re cute.” His cheeks flared up red under his foundation. 

 

“Thank you, but I think you’re cuter,” Eliza’s grin widened. 

 

Sandra hummed and turned to Roman, “I like him,” without another word she began to walk down the sidewalk towards —Virgil guessed— their home. 

 

The walk was anything but quiet; they actually reminded him a lot of his own brother, who rarely would shut up on their way home. Especially since they had been taking the bus lately thanks to the rain falling more often. They talked about everything, from Eliza’s day at school to Sandra’s art project. 

 

“Virgil, what do you do at T.H.O.M.A.S.?”

 

“I —I’m not sure actually,” Roman scoffed at his answer and waved him off. 

 

“He’s helping me compose the music and is our problem solver,” Roman explained. What was it with him today? He hadn’t insulted him besides the nickname (which was surprisingly unoriginal for someone like Roman). Roman always tried get away from their conversations as quickly as possible, always ready to shoot another insult, always open to bickering. But now he had not only stopped Dante, but also complimented him on various occasions. 

 

“Do you like it ?” 

 

“Ye-yeah, it’s fun,” Virgil smirked his little smile, “and my teammates aren’t half bad.” He didn’t dare look at Roman, so he just continued looking at his feet as he walked. 

 

“Eh, maybe everyone except Roman,” Sandra smirked and shrugged. Virgil chuckled before biting his lower lip to stop himself. It was a good day, he didn’t want to fight with Roman yet again. 

 

“You know what, Sandra?” 

 

“What?” Roman simply did a face to her and stuck his tongue out. It was weird seeing him so brotherly, “we have D.O.T. —District of Theater— in our school,” Sandra turned to talk to Virgil again. Both girls were walking in between the guys, Sandra closest to Virgil, “but it’s not competitive.”

 

“You say it like that’s bad,” answered Virgil. 

 

“Not competitive sucks,” Sandra shrugged. Virgil could feel Roman’s eyes on him but ignored him. It had always been easier to talk to children than his actual peers, simply because he knew that children wouldn’t judge him. It was an unconscious thing. “I want to be in T.H.O.M.A.S. when I get to Whyte.” 

 

“You want to go to Whyte?” 

 

“Yeah, but I want to be in T.H.O.M.A.S., so don’t screw it up.” For the first time, Virgil let out an actual short laugh, throwing his head slightly backwards before covering his mouth. 

 

“We’ll—we’ll try,” Virgil glanced at Roman briefly before doing a double take. His mouth hung ajar and his eyes were widened. 

 

“You… can laugh?”

 

“Shut up, Princey,” Virgil’s cheeks reddened under his foundation. He went back to looking at his feet as they walked. He continued to talk to Sandra, mainly about the club and Whyte, as Eliza got Roman’s attention. 

 

They four approached a couple of buildings,  _ D.W. Heights _ , that looked like townhouses except that the roofs were flat. There were metal fire ladders running on the sides of the buildings. Virgil always saw them when he was much younger, back when his parents had the decency to keep their fights to themselves. Probably around when he was about five, when they still did family things.

 

Roman opened the door to their apartment in the third –and last– floor. It was small, and cramped, but it radiated with home vibes. More than he could ever imagine. A bundle of coppery curls sprinted towards them and quickly latched itself to Roman’s leg; Roman continued walking as if nothing had happened.  After putting his stuff down, he picked the youngest up and propped her against his hip. From just watching the scene, one wouldn’t be able to tell if he was the father or the brother. 

 

“Ah, Princess Margarita!” The youngest girl bounced towards them, with more energy than Patton on a sugar rush. Her curls bounced with her wildly. “How was your day?”

 

“Great but Ro—”

 

“Fantastic! Anything interesting happening?”

 

“No, but list—” Margarita huffed in annoyance and Roman interrupted her again. He was clearly going through the motions, his mind divided. Virgil did that often enough that he accidentally got himself in various awkward conversations. 

 

“Well, you do have the rest of the—”

 

“For God’s sake, listen to the girl, Minnett.” Virgil grumbled and both siblings turned to look at him. Sandra smirked from where she stood beside him.

 

“I like you,” Sandra patted Virgil’s arm and left to what he guessed was her room. The two teens watched her leave before a soft snort escaped Virgil’s lips. Roman chuckled as well, but Margarita was looking at Virgil curiously from her place in her brother’s arms. 

 

“Who are you?”

 

Virgil turned to look back at the curly haired girl, “I’m Virgil.” Margarita nodded softly before snapping her head to look back at Roman, an excited grin stretching in her face. 

 

“Mom’s here!” Roman’s face did not match his sister’s. Virgil instantly noticed his teammate’s (friend?) face shift into worry. Maybe accepting to come to Roman’s house wasn’t the best idea… he clearly had things going on that were much more important. Roman put down Margarita who quickly scurried away into another door before coming back out with a woman on tow. 

 

“Everything okay?” Roman frowned reaching out to her before kissing her cheek. Mrs. Minnett had an amused smirk in her face. Virgil looked down at his feet, it felt like he was intruding on something personal. 

 

“Yeah, we closed early today, so everyone went home.” Virgil felt a pair of eyes on him before the woman’s voice reached his ears again, “and who is this?” It wasn’t aggressive or teasing, it was genuinely welcoming and he didn’t know what tone was more startling. 

 

“Mamá, this is Virgil,” Roman smiled widely, “he’s the compositor for the play.” Virgil looked at Roman almost confused. He wasn’t sure why Roman had been so nice to him that day… but the more he thought about it, it hadn’t been  _ that _ day alone. It had been the last two weeks. The nicknames had decreased a lot, from both sides, and more than once they had to reassure each other that they were important for T.H.O.M.A.S.; like back on their walk to Roman’s house. Virgil hadn’t been the most confident on his job at T.H.O.M.A.S., he wasn’t in charge of something. He just helped whoever needed his help at the moment. 

 

Mrs. Minnett smiled widely and went to hug him before Roman stopped her, “Virgil doesn’t like hugs.”

 

“Oh, sorry! It’s really nice to meet you.” 

 

“You too,” he smiled bashfully. He made a mental note to thank Roman later about the hug thing. He was  _ not _ a fan of touching. Virgil was even surprised at the fact that Roman knew that but he didn’t dwell on it too long; he knew that Roman could read people rather easily like when he had been uncomfortable with Dante. 

 

“We are going to work on the songs,” Roman explained, “do you still have your old guitar?” 

 

“Over my wardrobe,” Mrs. Minnett pointed behind her towards the room she came from. “You’ll need to tune it.” Then, with a soft nod she turned to the kitchen and left to make something. Roman motioned for Virgil to go into a room, clearly his guessing by the harsh contrast between baseball stuff and theater stuff. Roman them disappeared and left Virgil to look at the walls. 

 

It was… kind of scary how Roman seemed to know what he wanted exactly for his future. Flags of different colleges —among them Frae, one of the best artistic schools world wide— hung from his wall, there was even a list attached to the wall with a thumbtack naming about fifty different scholarships that would possibly affect him. The baseball calendar and team picture from the previous year were also hanging near his head. The calendar was  _ heavily _ marked, even color coded. Blue was baseball things (meetings, practices, nationals), T.H.O.M.A.S. was written in red (deadlines, meetings, days where he wanted to show the guys what he had so far), college things were in green (scholarships, internships), work was in purple, and then was everything related to his family in black sharpie to stand out. There were a couple of parent-teacher meetings, a couple of presentations, the fundraisers kids usually had to do, etc.

 

If guessing just by the calendar, Roman either had his life extremely well put together or he was just— “Found it!” Virgil’s head snapped towards Roman who held the guitar victoriously. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

 

Virgil frowned, “where?”

 

“To the rooftop,” Roman answered as he opened the window behind his nightstand, “Mamá will not stop checking on us otherwise, and we have a lot to do, Virgil!” He grinned. 

 

Virgil looked at him for a second before scoffing, “You’re too happy.” Roman let out a small chuckle as he helped Virgil through the window.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

 

“You do you, buddy,” Virgil muttered as the two climbed up the rusted metal ladder. The roof was exactly how’d you imagine it; cemented and a small ledge surrounding the perimeter to stop people from falling. There were two metallic boxes at the other side of the roof, probably ACs or venting systems. Roman plopped down from the ledge with a soft thud and leaned the guitar against the ledge. Virgil dropped his backpack near the guitar an kneeled next to it to get the notebook where he had some of the chords he had been working on. It was his composition book. “So, um, you don’t have to answer this—”

 

“Bad start to a question, my friend.” Chuckled Roman. 

 

“Where’s your dad?” His voice came out meeker than he had intended but, in a way, it fit the question. Roman’s face instantly hardened as he jumped on the ledge making Virgil’s heart jump. He did not like how close was Roman to the edge. 

 

“Ah, that bastard?” Roman almost growled dryly, “I don’t know and I could not care less. He left a week after Mar was born. Took everything and fucking left.” Roman was  _ scary _ when angry. If he frowned it wouldn’t be as scary but the fact that his face remained the same except for his eyes that held the fury of years, it was terrifying. 

 

“I wish my dad would leave,” Virgil commented off-hand, more to himself than actual Roman. But Roman heard him anyways and snapped to look at him, offended. 

 

“No, you don’t.” Roman spat looking down at him. Virgil was still kneeling by his backpack and Roman was still walking up and down the ledge. “You have no idea how it feels to know—to know you’re not good enough.”

 

Virgil blinked for a second, partially to process Roman; his popping vein in his neck, the furious and broken eyes. And partially to calm himself down. To not burst like Roman did. “You’ve never had to close your door because your parents  _ may _ snap.” 

 

Roman instantly calmed down as Virgil, though he reaaaally wanted, didn’t break the eye contact. “Virge…”

 

“Patton isn’t borderline overprotective without a reason,” Virgil looked down at the composition notebook as he heard the soft thud of Roman’s feet landing on the roof. Roman kneeled next to him but Virgil stopped him from talking, “we have to work on the songs, c’mon.” 

 

“Virgil–”

 

“Don’t,” Virgil looked at him, “look, once Patton graduates he’ll become my guardian and we’ll leave. It’s fine, but till then, not another word.”

 

Roman debated for a moment. Virgil knew he wanted to speak, it was unusual if he didn’t, but he didn’t. Roman nodded curtly before he handed Virgil the guitar. He went immediately to tune it. “Just know that I’m sorry.”

 

“Ditto, but your sisters seem pretty cool without having that bastard in their life.”

 

“What about me?!” Roman exclaimed as he leaned against the ledge waiting for Virgil to finish tuning the guitar. 

 

“Eh, you’re alright,” Roman let out an undignified offended squeak. Virgil laughed, throwing his head backwards, and continued tuning the guitar, ignoring Roman’s never ending offended comments. 


	10. Chapter 10

Logan Oxford wasn’t impressed by much. Usually, it was just the stupidity levels his classmates could reach, but other than that it was extremely hard to impress Logan. That day, that overcast yet dry day, he could officially admit he was impressed. 

 

Other than for the assemblies, Logan didn’t go to the football field behind the school and much less to the bleachers of it. But now, as he sat in the bleachers with Virgil by his side, he watched Patton single-handedly lift another cheerleader into the air. His arms were steady, like as if she didn’t weigh a thing, and they were stretched out above him. That kind of weight had to be straining yet his arm wasn’t even shaking. The girl was about seven feet high in the air and only one of her ankles was being held. 

 

“I thought Patton was coaching this year…” he mentioned to Virgil who was watching as well. 

 

“No, he’s Captain,” Virgil corrected him, “the coach lets him coach if she doesn’t show up.” Virgil, as it turned out, was not bad company. It felt even like simply hanging around Mare. The kid was clearly advanced in some levels, clearly struggled socially, and kept mostly to himself. He shared a lot in common with Logan and Mare. He was also the less energetic in the group so that was also a plus; don’t get him wrong, Patton and Roman were great, but sometimes the constant energy and buzz was… draining.

 

“Hmm, so Mare was wrong.” Logan smirked to himself not noticing he said it outloud. 

 

“You stalked my brother?” 

 

Logan snapped her head to look at the boy beside him “No. I did not.” Logan huffed before adding in a much quieter voice, “but Mare did.” 

 

Virgil chuckled softly as he shook his head. His phone buzzed twice before the younger boy took it out of his bag. He quickly tapped an answer and stood up, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Remy’s about to be here,” Virgil announced as he fixed his bag on his back, “hey, no making out with my brother. Unless you take him on a date first.” Logan wasn’t sure if the kid was teasing or being serious. 

 

“I don’t like Patton!” he exclaim frustrated, “why doesn’t anyone understand that?” 

 

“Oh, so you  _ don’t  _ like my brother?” Virgil’s tone instantly became defensive but now Logan knew that the kid was teasing him. 

 

“I mean, yes, I like him but not th—” 

 

“So you do like him? Make up your mind, Oxford.” The sound that escaped from Logan’s throat resembled a growl which only made Virgil chuckle and shake his head. “You were checking him out, dude, but alright —no more teasing.” 

 

“I was not.”  Logan wasn’t checking Patton out. He was impressed with the stunt they did earlier, but that was it. It was a thing about physics that Logan simply wanted to understand. 

 

Virgil looked at him for a few seconds then pursed his lips, “I guess you don’t like him then…” Virgil shrugged and went down a couple of steps before stopping and looking at him again. “You said ‘anyone’, who else is teasing you about this?” 

 

“Just leave.”

 

Again, Virgil went down a couple of steps before turning back to look at him, a bit more wary than before. Logan had gone back to looking at the practice, though his mind was running through the list of theaters they had to visit after Patton’s practice was over. “Logan?” the Junior’s head snapped to look at Virgil, almost startled as he thought he had already left. “I don’t know what you’re doing today with —with Patton. But if you do meet, I don’t know, by accident our parents… can you not tell them about T.H.O.M.A.S.?” 

 

Logan had known since the first meeting that the Sanders’ didn’t approve of the theater club they had. They had refused as profusely as he did to take the papers home when they were still reading them. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Virgil gave him a thankful version of his trademark smirk before it dropped. 

 

“Not to pry on stuff that doesn’t involve me, but… is everything okay at home? I—I mean with your parents?” Virgil had been leaning his weight on one foot to the other and then switching back a couple of times, thing Logan had noticed that he did quite often. Especially whenever the topic could end up with someone angry. 

 

“Yes, why?”

 

“It’s just Remy says you spend a lot of time at his aunt’s house…” Logan frowned confused, waiting for Virgil to clear what he meant with that, “Oh, uh, Remy’s Mare cousin.”

 

“I did not know that,” Logan admitted before shaking his head, “Uh, no. Everything’s fine with my parents… they’re just never home, and Mare’s my neighbor, so I tend to spend more time at her house.” 

 

“That… and you’re okay with that?”

 

“With what?”

 

“Your parents not being there, not supporting you with stuff like T.H.O.M.A.S.,” Logan went to say something, he felt like he needed to defend his parents but thankfully Virgil interrupted him. What could he say in favor of his parents? Virgil was right with what he said. They were never there, and if they were, they were probably being disappointed by him or mentioning a flaw in something he did. Logan thought all parents were like that, but if Virgil sounded so shocked or concerned, was it really normal? “We all noticed how you kept T.H.O.M.A.S. A secret, you even asked Mare to keep it a secret.” 

 

Logan shrugged, “It’s always been like that. Nothing that doesn’t involve politics interests them so I keep it to myself.”

 

“Sounds like my parents…” Virgil shook his head before shrugging, “well, remember: no making out with my brother.” Logan groaned as he dropped his head in frustration winning a chuckle from Virgil. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow.” 

 

“Goodbye.” With that, Virgil finally left Logan alone with his thoughts. Sure, he was watching the practice, but his mind had drifted far away from the theaters and cheerleaders. He was thinking of his parents. 

 

They always seemed normal. Parents were supposed to be disappointed in you, otherwise how would you learn? He wondered if it was actually normal that they spent as little time at home as they did. If they were at home, they were in their offices at home. Work had always come first; always before Logan or friends or social gatherings that didn’t affect their publicity (birthdays, parties, graduations, etc.). He had grown up thinking that it should be like that. People would always keep you from succeeding… yet if it hadn’t been for the three guys he now saw every Wednesday, T.H.O.M.A.S. (something that started as helping someone and ended up being something he was really passionate about though he would never admit) wouldn’t have gotten as far as it was now. Real teamwork didn’t exist in his parents vocabulary; yet Roman wouldn’t have been able to get as far into the show as he currently was without Virgil. Or Logan wouldn’t have been able to get the papers and history straight (heh) without Patton’s help. 

 

“Lo?” a light tap on his shoulder startled him awake from his thoughts and noticed that the field in front of him was now empty, and that a light rain had started to fall. 

 

“Oh, apologies, Patton…” 

 

“Are you okay?” Patton wore a worried look on his face, which Logan didn’t quite understand since he had simply been thinking. 

 

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine,” Patton didn’t seem to believe his words. Logan had simply gone down a path of thoughts that he hadn’t before, it was new and —to be honest— kind of scary. He noticed that Patton was no longer in his cheering outfit but wearing jeans, a Steven Universe t-shirt, and his Varsity cheer jacket that had Sanders written in the back. “Are you ready?” 

 

“Yup,” Patton smiled, though it didn’t reached his eyes like it usually did but Logan ignored that fact and turned to leave the bleachers with the Senior on tow. “So, where to first?” 

  
  


Their first destination was a mere fifteen minute ride away. The Collette was a small theater usually used by the church next door whenever they had a show or performance. It was kind of rustic with space for a hundred spectators. Big round wooden beams decorated the walls, unevenly placed which already put the theater in Logan’s negative list. Behind the stage was a room, far too small, that had three adjacent changing rooms and five make up tables (or whatever they’re called, Logan never cared to look for the name before) lining up the opposite wall. There were two foldable tables again the third wall between the make up and the changing rooms; presumably for props. 

 

Logan had maintained a leveled voice during the whole tour which was given by the owner of the place. The guy seemed nervous, trying to embellish every room a little bit more than what it actually was. Patton only asked precise questions, otherwise he simply kept quiet. It wasn’t until the owner left them to wander on their own that the two looked at each other. It wasn’t necessary to even say it. Both didn’t like it. 

 

“Why?” asked Logan in a low voice, almost a whisper. He knew the owner would probably be listening through the door, guessing by the nervous and shaky behavior the guy had had during the entirety of the tour. 

 

“If we can only admit a hundred people for only a couple of nights…” Patton shook his head, glancing down at the audience, “we won’t make a difference.” 

 

Logan wasn’t the best at the being positive. He was the rational one, the one who saw faults and fixed them. Roman was Mr. Positive, but Logan still tried his best. After all, the reason T.H.O.M.A.S. was a thing was because Patton had wanted to make a difference. Even if it’s the smallest one. “Success is not about the money you make, but the difference you make in somebody’s life.” 

 

Patton smiled cheerfully, suddenly much more positive, at Logan, “Michelle Obama.” Alright, second time in the day he had been impressed by Patton. He hadn’t expected for Patton to know whose quote that was and he certainly didn’t like how his stomach felt as Patton had said it correctly. 

 

“How’d you know?”

 

“I read,” Patton chuckled, brushing his hair back, “so… Collette’s a no, right?” 

 

“Obviously.”

  
  


The second theater was the  _ La Vie _ . It was even smaller, decorated with obnoxious amounts of fake gold. They didn’t go past the audience section before they stopped the tour and kindly rejected the offer of the theater. 

 

The third theater —Logan had never realized how many theaters there were in the same zone until he really started looking for them— was The Scott. It was… well, it was immense. It had space for over three hundred people, three nicely sizeable backstage rooms plus the wings to each side of stage. The decoration was a nice mixture between pale orange, red, and a dash of dark woods. It was great. It was perfect. It was… not going to work. 

 

After a rather heated argument about entrance prices being too high —which made no sense if most of the audience couldn’t even afford the ticket for a charity play— and non-negotiable, the teens simply left and sat in the car in silence for a couple of seconds. At this rate they were going to go through all the theaters within an hour radius from the school and end up back at The Collette, which wasn’t the worse, but it wasn’t ideal either. Patton leaned his head back and closed his eyes as Logan leaned his head against the steering wheel. Both sighed in unison, bringing a chuckle to Patton’s lips. 

 

“We’ll find one.” 

 

“Will we?” Logan muttered. 

 

“We have to,” whispered Patton making Logan slightly turn his head to look at the elder, “we’ve gotten this far by being stubborn, might as well get to the end.” 

 

“Inspirational,” Logan commented sarcastically before huffing and leaning back from the wheel. “alright, maybe Mare knows something that I don’t.” 

 

Patton looked at him with a frown, “I thought you had five theaters in your list,” he mentioned confused. 

 

“Well,  _ Le Ciné _ and Kie are both like this one,” Logan nodded towards the building that stood in front of them still. “I’ve been to both of them, and if The Scott didn’t change the entrance fee for us, they won’t either.” He had been dragged to both when he was younger by his parents to different awards being presented to them. Awards, for some reason, were at fancy theaters. He hated those ceremonies when he was younger, yet he always sat still next to his politely-smiling-parents. 

 

Logan placed his phone down in the cup holder between the two before turning on the car to warm them up. After the first theater it had started to rain and sitting in the cold car wasn’t doing them any good. 

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t turn down The Collette.” 

 

“I know but—” even through text messages, Mare manages to interrupt Logan. He grabbed his phone and scanned the message, a small sliver of hope building in his chest, “Mare says there’s one called  _ Règlement des Gaines _ , also known as  _ Le Règ _ .” 

 

“One last shot?” Patton smiles positively and Logan sighs as he shifts his car to reverse, to leave The Scott’s parking lot.

 

“One last shot.” 

 

It was nearing eight p.m. by the time they got the  _ Le Règ _ . They had started the hunt for the theater at six since Patton was only available after that, meaning the chances of actually catching someone at the theater to show them around were slim. But slim are better than zero. 

 

The car ride was mainly silent like the other times but Logan knew by the tapping of Patton’s fingers that it wouldn’t be like that for much longer. He wasn’t one to be in silence for long, always ready to jump into a conversation. Almost immediately, Patton turned to Logan, who quickly acted like he wasn’t thinking about that, despite Patton being unable to read thoughts as far as he was concerned. 

 

“How did you get started in all of this if your parents don’t approve of it?” Either the Sanders brothers shared a telepathic bond or his parents’ disapproval must be far more obvious than he expected. 

 

“All of this?”

 

“Theater,” Patton specified. 

 

“I didn’t,” Logan glanced briefly at the Senior, “I don’t really find any interest in make believe.” 

 

“Then why are you with us? Why even start T.H.O.M.A.S.?”

 

“Because you had good intentions and had a lot of things going against you,” he had never explicitly explained it, not even to Mare, about why he even went through the troubles to get T.H.O.M.A.S. in the first place. But it was truly just because of Patton; a stranger with good intentions and a bad hand of cards. During minutes of frustration, like back when he had his forehead pressed against the steering wheel, reminding himself of why he did it was enough to get started again. To keep going. He was helping someone other than his family’s name, Mare, or himself. And it felt good. 

 

Patton smiled sweetly at him, a grin threatening to break through, “Aww! You are our hero, Lo!” 

 

Logan wanted to cringe at the whole appreciation thing and love thing, he really wanted to, but he couldn’t. He could only roll his eyes, and if it was in a fond manner only he will know, similarly to the way Mare had rolled her eyes at him when the boxes filled with papers first appeared in his backseat. “What about you, how did you start, Patton?”

 

“I was looking for a way to get out of my house…” Logan glanced briefly at him. Patton had his head resting in against the cold glass and looking out the window at the passing scenery. “I was a Freshman when Emile asked me to go with him to the first meeting for theater. He was kind of shy back then,” Patton let out a soft huffed chuckle, “and I actually liked it more than Emile did.” 

 

“How many plays have you done?” 

 

“Just that one.” Logan noticed him shrug but didn’t turn to look at him as he slowed down to a stop in a red light. As soon as he had stopped the light turned green, not allowing him to look at Patton, “my parents never went so I kind of assumed that if I said I was at rehearsal, my parents wouldn’t question where I was. Besides, cheer takes a lot of time too.”

 

“So you’re never home?” 

 

“No,” Patton shrugged again. It was kind of shocking, at least in Logan’s mind. He had always pictured Patton to be the one that stayed home with his family and Virgil the one to be out as much as possible. “I —last year I basically got rid off all my friends,” Logan glanced at him upon hearing those words. Everyone knew how Patton was probably the sweetest and most popular guy at Whyte, not that Logan really cared about it, but for the same guy that the whole school considered a friend to say that he basically didn't have any friends, it was kind of startling, “Only Emile stuck with me.” 

 

“Virgil said that you were always out with friends, I thought…” he let his words fade off. 

 

“That’s what I tell him,” Patton finally turned to look at Logan who only glanced at him. He was driving after all, “Virge is… anxious.”

 

“Understatement.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Apologies.”

 

“But, yes. Virge worries too much, and wants me to be happy. So if I told him that I’m mostly alone, he would worry and overthink it. He just started high school, he’s making new friends — not exactly a stroll through the park for him— and now T.H.O.M.A.S., I…”

 

Logan wasn’t one to make friends easily; in that, Virgil and Logan shared a lot in common. But Mare, who was the closest one to be his sibling, always knew what was going on. They were each others confidant. Logan was the one Mare called to just vent and Logan was the one that rationalized Mare’s nonsensical and anxious thoughts. Yet they weren’t as closes as Patton and Virgil were despite Patton lying daily. 

 

“Where are you, then, when Virgil believes you are with your friends?” 

 

“Usually at Twits.” Twits was a popular coffee shop near the school; big and with good food. While Starbucks was a thing, most of the people went to Twits if it wasn’t a grab-and-go thing. Twits did have to-go things, but everyone knew that if you didn’t sit down and drink your coffee there, you didn’t get the real Twits experience. 

 

Logan turned left and soon both came to face a looming building illuminated by old fashioned lamposts.  _ Le Règ _ was bigger than The Scott; with three Greek columns to each side of the entrance,  _ Le Règ  _ was a three story building. It was already dark outside, leaving the theater to stand out like a sore thumb with its well lit entrance. He parked almost directly in front of the entrance and the two simply sat there for a second. 

 

“What are the chances of them being more generous than The Scott?” Logan sighed as he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned off the car. It was going to be a waste of time and they were going to end up going to The Collette. 

 

“Statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” Patton answered as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Logan froze in his spot and turned to look at Patton before scoffing. 

 

“Don’t quote a video game,” Logan shook his head before getting out of the car and fixing his tie. He heard Patton laugh as the senior also got out of the car. Logan ignored the feeling the quote and the laugh had ignited in his stomach. 

 

“It’s a good game!”

 

“I’ll take your word for it.” He answered as they began to walk towards the theater. 

 

“You should play it someday.”

 

“Not likely.”

  
  


Mare and Logan sat in opposite corners of the same sofa, their legs tucked next to each other and covered with a colorful blanket that usually sits at the feet of Mare’s bed. She blinked expectantly, waiting for him to start speaking as he had been frowning softly down at the blanket, picking at the loose thread in it. 

 

“Stop making a hole in my blanket, Oxford.” Logan instantly dropped the thread but continued to fiddle with his fingers. It was rare to see him so unsure but at the same time it was almost refreshing; Logan was always so sure about things, he was academically smart, but ever since that morning in the car —when he showed her the cardboard boxes— he had been having a lot of uncertain moments. “Spill.” 

 

“There’s something wrong with me,” Mare made a motion with her hand as if saying  _ What’s new _ . She always did those well meant insults so Logan just ignored it, “my stomach’s been doing these weird things, and then my heart seems to like, skip beats, which I know is impossible since it would hurt but instead it feels good and— why are you smirking?” 

 

Mare’s smirk was impossible to miss, and a bit annoying too. It was her  _ I know something you don’t  _ or the  _ You poor unaware soul _ . He hated those smirks. He was sure that had they not been waiting for their take out food to arrive, Mare would have been blowing pink bubblegum bubbles to cover her smirk, and then making them pop as loud as possible, “when is this happening?” 

 

“Whenever I’m at T.H.O.M.A.S.”

 

“More specific?” Mare knew that Logan knew what she wanted to hear. He hated the fact that he knew that; that it would mean Mare had been right since the start. There was a tiny voice speaking in the back of his mind that he had been making an effort to ignore since then. 

 

“Patton. Happy?” 

 

“Ecstatic,” Mare grinned as Logan went back to fiddling with the loose thread and this time Mare didn’t mention it. He could feel the tiny voice spelling out his problem in the back of his mind, but it was such a foreign thing that it almost seemed like it was a whole new language. What did Logan know about emotions? Nothing, and that was the scariest part. “You like Patton.”

 

Logan didn’t fight back. He sat back with a sigh the same way a patient would do after a doctor tells them  _ I’m sorry but _ … Mare was his doctor.  _ I’m sorry, but you’re experiencing human emotions.  _ “What do you do with… this?” He motioned at himself in distaste. 

 

“Well, you got two options: one, you gather courage and confess yourself —it’s a lot harder than it sounds,” Mare quickly adds, interrupting Logan who had already opened his mouth to speak, “or you can just keep it quiet until it fades away —which also is harder than it seems, it may not even fade and if it doesn’t well, you can always come here to drown your heartbreak with spoonfuls of jelly.” 

 

Logan scoffed —he had been doing that a lot since the two sat down on the sofa— and rolled his eyes, “we aren’t movie characters, Rae.” 

 

Mare shrugged. “I’m just being a supportive yet realistic best friend.” 

 

The food was like a saving bell. Mare quickly stood up and went to retrieve their food before placing it in the coffee table near them. She shimmied back into her cozy place and both grabbed their orders. It was silent for a little while, but then Mare had to go and open her mouth with a crazy idea. “You should ask him on a date.” 

 

“You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?” Logan exclaimed in a mixture of dismissing the idea and raw surprise. “If my parents learn that I’m gay, I’ll be dead by tomorrow morning.” 

 

“Who said about anything telling them?” 

 

“Have you heard me lie?”

 

“I… I wasn’t talking about lying,” Mare looks down at her food briefly before looking up at him, quickly enough to catch the exact second when her words sinked in. 

 

“No.” 

 

Mare groaned “Live a little, Oxford! Sneak out, get a boyfriend, do dumb shit. You’ve covered for me, so I’ll be generous enough to cover for you!” 

 

“I can’t,” Logan shook his head down as a deep frown settled in his face. He has never sneaked out, much less to go see a boy. He just couldn’t.


	11. Patton Sanders

**1 NEW MESSAGE FROM** ** _Lo_** **(** **open** **) (clear)**

 

**Would you like to go out with me?**

 

Patton doubts that he had ever replied a text faster than that one. It was a simple text and very forward, much like Logan himself, but it had been awhile since a message had made his heart speed up. 

 

**_Yes! :D When???_** **(** **send** **)**

 

**Now? (** **reply** **) (delete)**

 

A soft smirk quickly stretched in his lips as his fingers flew around, tapping quickly an answer. 

 

**_Y not. Pick me up? :p_ ** **(** **send** **)**

 

**Yes. (reply) (delete)**

 

He turned off his phone before quickly, and quietly, dashing to his youngest brother’s room. He could still hear his parents roaming about downstairs doing who-knows-what but he had sneaked out plenty of times before; Patton knew for sure that they wouldn’t check up on the teens again until five a.m., the time his mother woke up to go running. 

 

“What?” Virgil looked up from his notebook and locked eyes with Patton who was smiling innocently at him. Virgil had his bedside light on and was tapping his pencil against the metal spiral of the notebook that rested on his propped up knees. Patton was twirling his phone mindlessly between his hands.

 

“Would you cover for me?”

 

Virgil’s face instantly dropped into one of false annoyance. The youngest hated when Patton sneaked out; it always stressed him that their parents could potentially catch him and ground both of them. Patton knew how much effort it took from his younger brother, and he truly couldn’t love him more, so he rarely asked him. “Why?” 

 

“I have a date,” Patton mentioned with a grin. He quietly bit his lower lip as he waited for Virgil’s answer. He knew the answer would be a yes, it was always a yes. Even if the answer was a no, Patton would sneak out and Virgil would cover for him. Patton owed his brother big time. “Please!” 

 

“Careful.” That was all Virgil said before going back to scribbling in his notebook. That had always been his way of saying yes. There were times when Patton really wondered if Virgil was the actual older brother. Sometimes, he surely acted like it.

 

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as I get back,” Patton grinned before quietly sprinting back into his room. Patton, unlike his brother and two teammates —and almost everyone at Whyte— wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a crush. He knew exactly when he liked someone or when he didn’t; but he also didn’t like someone that often. It had been three years since his last crush, so the fact that he was  _ feeling  _ something for Logan came as a shock. 

 

He changed his shirt, run his hands through his hair, and prepared his bedroom to seem like he was there sleeping. Just in case his parents went to check on him (again, he doubted they would since he basically memorized their schedules, but it’s always better to be prepared). Virgil’s door was directly in front of Patton’s; both rooms were in the second floor but Patton’s looked out to the roof of their roofed terrace. He was so used to sneak out of his window, quietly lower himself into the roof and then hopping down to the grass, that it came as a second nature now. He used to do it almost every other day during his Sophomore year. 

 

He sneaked under the still lit kitchen window. He dared take a peek from the corner and noticed his parents engaged into yet another fight. It meant great news for his escaped, they surely wouldn’t notice him gone now. He continued sneaking and waited by a tree in front of their house, hiding his body from the living room’s window. He quickly noticed the familiar blue car approaching him and a grin stretched in his lips. As Logan stopped in front of him, Patton quickly slipped into the car and grinned at Logan. 

 

“Hello, Patton.” Logan had a nervousness to him; in the way he tried to smile at him and how he couldn’t manage to meet Patton’s eyes. “How are you?”

 

“Surprised,” Patton admitted with a chuckle as he buckled himself, “didn’t peg you for someone who sneaks out.”

 

“I’m not.” Patton grinned brightly at Logan as the Junior started driving away from the house. “What?”

 

“Someone’s trying new things because of his theater friends,” Patton teased slightly. He wouldn’t consider himself a flirt, or someone who likes to see people flustered, but there was a certain pleasure to seeing Logan’s cheeks get dusted with a slight pink. 

 

“No. Mare simply suggested it as a learning experience.” 

 

“Mhm, and why didn’t you go with her then?” Patton looked at him and when there was no answer, Patton chuckled, “it’s okay, we like you too.” Patton quickly kissed his cheek and watched the slight pink in Logan’s cheeks be replaced with a furious red as he continued staring ahead. “So, where are we going?” 

 

“I don’t know,” admitted Logan as he glanced briefly, his eyes meeting with Patton’s shining ones. Patton chuckled, and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Take a right here,” Patton pointed at the upcoming stop sign. Without hesitation, Logan stopped at the sign and turned right. It went like that for a bit, Patton giving quiet and brief directions, until they were driving up a hill. Logan had always been too serious, too to-the-book, kind of guy so Patton had kind of expected for this date (oh, goodness, was this even a date?) to be uncomfortable but as Logan didn’t speak again, the two fell into a peaceful silence. There wasn’t a  _ need _ to speak… 

 

The dimly lit winding streets brought a peace to Patton’s mind nothing else ever did, well, until T.H.O.M.A.S. came along. There was a soft fog between the trees to the sides of the street, it should’ve been creepy —the long and thin limbs of the barren trees made shapes in the dark as if they came straight out of nightmares— but it brought a peace to his mind. The kind of peace that a lullaby brings to a tired mind. 

 

But Patton wasn’t one to like silence. The silence was becoming suffocating. 

 

He rarely drove without talking his brother’s ear off or without music playing. Silence had always meant that he did something wrong, that something was wrong, so any needless silence was filled with his inceasant talking or music. Virgil had grown used to it, and his teammates in the cheer team were always talking even more than him, but he had lost most of his friends that way. They grew annoyed of him, but the idea of silence terrified him so he kept talking. That thought was the only one that kept him from speaking as the car grew closer to the peak of the hill, even if his heart started racing a bit. He really liked Logan, and he knew that T.H.O.M.A.S. wouldn’t work without Logan (or the other two).

 

After a few minutes of silent driving up a curvy street, a tall green iron gate with both doors wide upon appeared in front of them. Technically, the place was a cemetery but the actual cemetery didn't start until much deeper into the place. So deep that they couldn’t even see it from where they were. Patton grinned at Logan, “Welcome to Walkie Park.” It was harder to see the green park, but the tall pine trees were easily distinguishable in the faint moonlight. 

 

They parked but didn’t move for a few seconds before Patton unbuckled himself and motioned him to follow him. It was kind of chilly outside but not enough to immediately make them shiver –after all, they were both used to the cold weather of their town. The bite of the cold breeze was a welcome awakening from the lulled states they had assumed in the quiet car; it also was welcome as a way of slowing his heart down. Patton led Logan, who had been looking around curiously, away from the parking lot and towards the grass. It was a slight walk up to the top of the small hill before Patton plopped down right between two pine trees and looked up at Logan expectantly; the younger man didn’t move for a couple of seconds before sitting down next to him. Patton didn’t mention how off his element Logan seemed to be as he noticed the boy’s shoulders relax slightly. The two silently looked over the dark park, listening to the rustling trees. 

 

“One of your escapades’ destinations?” Logan spoke quietly and without looking at him. Both had placed their arms around their propped up legs and as Patton turned to look at Logan, he leaned his head against his own arm. Logan didn’t notice his staring, and if he did, he didn’t show it.

 

“Yeah…” Patton pressed his lips into a thin line, “I found this place during my sophomore year… It was the first time my parents started…”

 

“Fighting?”

 

“No, they’ve done that since before Virgil was born,” Patton chuckled humorlessly at the memory of his parents hating each other yet still loving the other enough to have a second kid, “sophomore year was when the fights started to happen outside their room… But, hey, something good came out of it.”

 

“Do you come here often?” Logan finally turned to look at Patton. He didn’t even seem startled that Patton had been looking at him.

 

“Often enough,” Patton chuckled before straightening his back as it started to ache from sitting hunched like that. The two had never had quiet moments; whenever they were together, it always had to do with T.H.O.M.A.S.. Business, theater, business, theater. In the past couple of months they had spent countless hours together yet never had a chance to really talk. Of course, it wasn’t like Patton had a lot of time outside of school, cheer, and the club. “I think I have like a thousand drawings of the sunrise.” He gave Logan a grin, but Logan seemed to be more interested on his words than Patton had expected.

 

“Drawings?”

 

Patton looked away to where the sky met the mountains as his smile slipped slowly off. He didn’t like talking about his hobbies. He had learned that people didn’t care for him the way they said; Patton considered himself more of a pit-stop friend than anything else. His friends surely treated him like that. They befriended him, got everything they needed out of him, and then left… no remorse, no looking back. Just friendly ‘hey’s on the hall before moving on. Yet, like an idiot, he kept falling for it. Part of him didn’t mind; he liked helping people and making them happier. The other part of him, well, he ran away to the same park he sat with Logan whenever he had free time.

 

“Patton?” 

 

He glanced at Logan before huffing out a laugh, “never mind.”

 

“Do you draw?” Patton shrugged before giving him a tight lipped smile, “you’ve never mentioned it.”

 

“It’s not important,” Patton chuckled trying to shake away the thought. For the first time he had time to speak with Logan, to really talk with him, and he was not about to ruin it with moody thoughts. “What about you? Besides studying and the club, what do you do in your free time?”

 

Logan seemed to think for a second, a troubled look going through his face briefly before he shrugged as well, “I… don’t know.” He admitted softly, “I don’t have a lot of free time between studying and getting Mare out of trouble.” Patton laughed at that. He had only met Mare twice; the first time was when she sassed him about the club, and the second one was when Logan offered him and Virgil a ride instead of walking through the surprise rain. She had been sitting on the passenger sit, feet propped up against the dashboard –which was obviously just to mess with Logan– and chewing pink bubblegum into bubbles and popping them loudly. The two always stroke him as siblings more than best friends. She could also irritate him  _ very _ quickly and it was extremely entertaining for everyone but Logan.

 

“She gets in a lot of trouble?”

 

“More than she should,” Logan’s matter-of-fact tone quickly incited a laugh from Patton. 

 

“Hey, maybe one day we should all go out together,” Patton proposed after a few seconds of silence, “Roman, Virge, Mare, and us…” 

 

“Not a good idea,” Logan smirked at him, “your brother and Mare? It could only lead to disaster… add Roman’s competitiveness to it and, well…”

 

Patton laughed again, throwing his head back. The crisp cold night breeze ruffled their hair as the two fell quiet once again. His fingers were twitching slightly, his nails scraping his jeans quietly, and though he tried ignoring them, he just couldn’t. For someone as chatty as himself, he couldn’t think of anything to say. This was going bad and all thanks to him, Logan would probably hate him and— 

 

“Why do you do that?” 

 

Patton snapped his head to look at Logan, who had been looking at him as if trying to figure him out, again. “Do what?”

 

“Silence obviously makes you anxious,” Patton pursed his lips and looked away embarrassed, “yet you keep quiet. Why?”

 

“Well, I don’t want to annoy you with the constant talking,” he tried to shrug the topic off, like he had done with his hobby of drawing, but Logan wasn’t letting go as easily. 

 

“I don’t believe that’s possible.” 

 

Patton frowned and slowly turned to look at Logan again, “what do you mean?” 

 

“You may talk a lot, but your ramblings are nothing if not amusing.” 

 

His could feel the tips of his ears warm up at those words. Probably in Logan’s mind he was simply being honest, but to a hopeless romantic like Patton it sounded awfully close to flirting. It didn’t help either that his stomach did flips to Logan’s words. 

 

“Thank you… I think.” Patton chuckled nervously. 

 

“Why do you do it?” He wished Logan sounded less sincere and curious because that way, Patton would’ve been able to tell him to drop it. But the genuine curiousness was too much to ignore.

 

“Silence means something’s wrong,” he whispered quietly, “if I did something wrong, my parents wouldn’t talk to me, or if the house was too silent it meant that the fight was over but that a new one was about to start…” 

 

Patton didn’t have to look at Logan to sense his surprise. “That’s not—”

 

“I know, so does Virge,” Patton gave him a tight lipped reassuring smile, “we’re working on that.” 

 

“But if you don’t like the silence, why come here where it’s always quiet?”

 

Patton chuckled softly, “silence it’s only bothersome when I’m with someone —it’s… it’s why I started drawing in the first place. I’d doodle to keep myself distracted and them doodles became drawings.” 

 

“Ah, so you do draw.”

 

Patton chuckled at the sillines. Well, if Logan wanted to play Sherlock, who was he to stop him. Either way, Logan now knew about one of his most prized secrets; one that  _ Emile  _ —his best friend in the whole wide world— didn’t even know much about. He knew that Patton doodled in literally every surface, including his favorite pair of jeans, but he had no idea of how many notebooks he had filled and how many colored pencils he owned. They were all secretly stashed in an old cardboard box in the back of his closet. 

 

“Yes, I draw,” he rolled his eyes, “happy?”

 

Logan didn’t answer his question, instead he asked a question of his own. “Why didn’t you want to talk about it?” 

 

Patton hummed quietly for a second, “most of my friends—”

 

“Ex.” Logan interrupted him and Patton turned to look at him in confusion. “Ex-friends, I thought they left last year. The correct tense would be ex-friends.” 

 

“Ah, yeah, most of my  _ ex _ —” he emphasized the word, “—friends would describe me as… obsessive. I think. I’ve heard. I did tell some people at the start, but, I guess I got way into it because people suddenly started grumbling and muttering mean things when I started doodling.” 

 

“Obsessive is a bit too much. You are persistent, I’ll give you that.”

 

“So are you!” Patton scoffed a laugh, “you got us T.H.O.M.A.S., which I  _ doubt _ was an easy thing to do.” 

 

Logan hummed but made no further comment, making Patton believe he won that. He could see Logan’s lips pulling slightly up and his shoulders relax. 

 

“Does Virgil know about that hobby of yours?” 

 

Patton blinked at Logan before running his hand under his circular glasses and leaving his hand pressed against his own cheek as he exhaled slowly. “I can feel you judging.”

 

“Good.”

 

Oh, that was one of the many things one had to love about Logan. He was straightforward, no playing around. “Yes. He does know about this one.” 

 

“Did you know that Virgil knows how to play piano?” Logan making Patton stop for a second and look at him; pondering if he was being serious or just messing with him. Of course, the answer came easily since this is Logan he was talking about. Patton nodded slowly. “Did you know he can compose music?” Patton’s nodding halted. 

 

“What?”

 

“Ah,” Logan nodded like psychologists do in movies when they find out what the real problem was, “you didn’t know. Yes, your brother knows how to compose music, and not only that, he is composing the music for your own show.”

 

“I… I thought he was helping Roman by  _ playing  _ the instruments…”

 

“Thought you could use that bit of information,” Logan admitted before finally dragging his gaze away from him (and his surroundings) and back to the mountain range far away. They could barely see it, but they knew where it started because the stars stopped right there. “Something you two can talk about.”

 

“Thank you, for helping me rekindle my brotherly relationship with Virge.”

 

“Are you being sarcastic?”

 

“Extremely,” Patton chuckled. He wasn’t mad like some people would be. Logan’s help was actually great; maybe he did need to talk to Virgil about that. Sure, it was a bit invasive from Logan’s part but at the same time, everyone showed caring in different ways. 

 

“That is one thing I’ve never managed to understand,” Logan admitted in a much quieter voice, “until I met Mare, sarcasm was simply another meaningless word in the vocabulary.” 

 

“Well, it’s just about how you accentuate words—”

 

“I know what it is, I can’t identify it.” Logan cut him short, “why not just say what you mean to say?”

 

“Because where’s the fun in that?” Patton grinned at him childishly; fully aware that he was in Logan’s peripheral vision. 

 

“Why would you need fun when talking? Talking is to get a point across, to communicate, not have fun.”

 

“Bold of you to say, considering you like poetry and fiction.” Patton snickered as Logan snapped his head to give him a death stare. Logan was a master with those; he could express the  _ So done with you right now  _ feeling with only looking at him deadpanned. “It’s because we’re human.”

 

“Which means what exactly?”

 

“It’s a funny way of saying mean things,” Patton explained, “humans are always looking for ways to do things without consequences—even though it’s impossible because even doing that gives consequences, yes, I know,” Patton immediately interrupted himself when he saw Logan open his mouth to correct him about consequences. As soon as the guy had his mouth shut again, Patton resumed, “so, for example, if you say something mean to someone else, they could punch you…  _ but _ if you answer with sarcasm, they’ll think you’re at least a bit witty and your chances of getting punch decrease dramatically.” 

 

Logan stayed quiet for almost a minute, probably processing what Patton just said, but then he nodded softly and turned to look at Patton once again. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The two spent the following three hours like that. Talking about everything and nothing; none of those silly small talk topics. But deep conversations; things you can only talk when the stars are out and the quietness of the night blankets all prejudices and stereotypes. Patton, one that loved those conversations and often had them with Virgil, found an excellent companion for them. Logan was very calculating; he was numbers, studies, experiments, and viewed everything from a logical and reasonable point of view. Patton was the complete opposite. He was very emotional; he was feelings, morals that he learned throughout his life, jokes, and viewed everything from a personal point of view. Their conversation never wore thin; they only changed from topic to topic because one was distracted by a word the other said. 

 

The two lost track of time until Patton caught a glance of his own watch as he went to brush his hair back and noticed that it was nearing one in the morning. The two were quick to jump from their seats and rush back to the car. Patton’s giggles quickly vanished the silence as they drove down the same winding, dimly lit, foggy streets. “I don’t think I’ve ever lost time like that…”

 

“You said you’ve stayed up there until sunrise,” Logan stated with a questioning tone. 

 

“Oh, yeah, but it was planned…” Patton grinned at him. Logan simply shook his head at his antics and focused on driving. “Umm, awkward question… but… uh…”

 

“Yes, Patton?”

 

“Was, was this a date?” Patton scratched the back of his hand nervously, “you weren’t very specific in text and I, uh, then you said that Mare told you to, uh, do this…”

 

“Yes, Patton, this was a date…” Logan confirmed and Patton’s ears flushed red again. A dopey smile creeped up Patton’s lips as he looked at the passing trees. They were about ten minutes away from his house. “I’ll make sure to be more specific the next time.”

 

Patton snapped his head to look at him, a giddy warm feeling expanding his chest, “there’ll be a next time?” Oh, he sounded so pathetically giddy but he didn’t care. 

 

Logan smirked, almost teasingly, and without sparing him a glance he answered a short “Maybe.” 

 

Patton chuckled at Logan’s trying-to-be-mysterious antics and went back to looking outside. Silence quickly replaced conversations and, strangely enough, Patton didn’t have as much problems with it. His hand still twitched slightly, but he didn’t feel like he was being suffocated. 

 

It was almost peaceful; with the rumbling of the engine, their breathing, and the occasional nail-against-jeans from Patton’s twitchy hand. Of course, it got to the point that he was starting to become a bit more nervous about the silence and, deciding against repeating the torture that the drive up to the park had been, Patton turned to look at Logan. 

 

“Do you have to sneak into your house?” 

 

“What?”

 

“Well, it’s one in the morning, and from what I’ve heard… your parents aren’t the most forgiving…”

 

“No. I’m supposedly staying with Mare tonight.” Patton frowned confused. He was sure that if his parents were as strict as he thought they were, there was no way they would let him stay the night — a school night too!— at a girl’s house. “She texted them saying I had fallen asleep during our ‘study session’.” 

 

“Why the quote marks?”

 

“We usually just talk.”

 

“About what?”

 

“People, mostly,” Patton’s jaw dropped at the statement.  He did not peg Logan to be  _ that _ kind of guy. Then again, the Logan he was sitting next to wasn’t the same as the one from last week. 

 

“I never thought you’d be a gossiper.”

 

Logan snapped to look at him briefly, offended, before looking back at the road in front of him. “I am  _ not _ a gossiper, Patton. It’s called being well informed. It’s a political tactic.”

 

“Yeah, but between normal people, it’s called gossiping.” Patton chuckled before smirking smugly. Logan continued to mutter meaningless curses at him under his breath and whenever he caught a sight of it, Patton went back to snickering uncontrollably. Logan stopped in front of Patton’s house but he didn’t get off right away. “Thank you, for tonight. I really needed it.” 

 

“My pleasure,” Logan muttered, still somewhat offended which made him chuckle even more. 

 

Patton kissed his cheek and enjoyed how Logan’s cheeks quickly turned pink and he looked even farther away from him. He got off the car but before he closed the door, Patton leaned back down and smirked at Logan. 

 

“Oh, and to sneak in, walk with the outside of your feet. It’s quieter.” 

 

“I thought it was tip-toes.”

 

“Well, yes, but after a few minutes they get tense, and that makes them louder.” Patton chuckled as Logan shook his head and glanced at him. 

 

“It worries me that you know this.”

 

Patton laugh, though he tried to keep it quiet, “what can I say?” He grinned again and bid goodnight before closing the door and sneaking back into the garden, up the roof of their roofed terrace, quietly sneak back into the window and close it without making a sound. He grinned, probably looking like he was from a romantic movie and he was the love struck character, but he didn’t care. He changed into his pajamas and sneak to Virgil’s room. 

 

The lights were off, but if he knew anything about his brother, it was that he rarely went to sleep before one. He opened the door quietly and sneak in before closing it as quietly. It wasn’t until he was closer to the bed that he heard the quiet sobs. “Virge?” He called out quietly. The sobs immediately stopped and Virgil shuffled a bit before lower the covers and looking at Patton. 

 

Virgil always left the curtains open to let the moonlight in; it was calming and made his room feel more spacious. It also helped Patton noticed the handmark on his younger brother’s cheek. 

 

“Oh my God,” Patton whispered dumbstrucked, reaching softly at the mark but Virgil leaned away. It probably still stung, “who…”

 

“Mom.” Virgil whispered even quieter. 

 

“I’m gonna—” Patton turned to go and talk ( scream ) to his parents but Virgil was quick enough to grab his forearm and stop him. 

 

“No.”

 

“Virge—”

 

“Just… stay here?” 

 

Patton slid into the covers and pulled Virgil close like he used to do when they were younger and Virgil had a nightmare. God, he hated their parents and couldn’t wait to get out of that house with Virgil forever. It wasn’t that they were super abusive; they did tend to snap and hit them from time to time, most times it was the younger of the two, but it didn’t make it right. Hitting was not right; no matter how many times they did it. 

 

“How was your date?” 

 

Patton huffed out a sad laugh and ran his hand through his brother’s hair, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 


	12. Chapter 12

“I think this it!” Virgil jogged after Roman down the theater’s isle; guitar in hand. Roman had brought his mother’s guitar for what could be the last writing session of the show —not that it would stop being re-written, they were bound to change something during rehearsals. Roman cackled excitedly before hopping on the stage and grinning at the two very confused upperclassmen, “I think we got it.”

 

“Eh.” Virgil added more doubtfully. Roman glared at him through narrowed eyes for a second before sitting down on the floor in front of the other two. Virgil noticed the papers spread in front of them, “what’s that?”

 

“ _ Le Rég _ accepted, we’re just finishing the paperwork…”

 

“Five bucks the ticket,” added Patton with a grin, “four go to the charity. Seventeen days, like we said.” 

 

Virgil smirked, “alrighty then.” He plopped down next to Roman as the guy handed Logan and Patton a copy of their script. Virgil opened his notebook in front of him.

 

“Are we going to read it?” Logan asked. He clearly didn’t meant as in ‘reading it quietly’, so Roman nodded with a soft shrug. “I’m not much of an actor.” 

 

“You don’t have to be,” Roman reassured him. He must have been extremely excited because he had not picked up a fight with Virgil or Logan —usually his targets— all day. “It sounds different when you read it out loud, believe me.”

 

Logan glanced at Patton unsure but only received a soft shrug, “he’s right.” 

 

Logan sighed and motioned them to start. Virgil looked at them for a second longer before pulling the guitar on his lap and playing the opening chords. Their show would start with a song right off the bat; it was the only way to engage the people, or so said Roman. 

 

They left the singing to Roman —and in some songs to Patton—  and an hour and a half later they were finishing what was indeed the final draft of their show. They all had smiles displayed on their faces, some wider than others, as Roman finished the last note of the last song. 

 

It was a coming of age story, of a young adult finding out what he was meant to do out there in the big world where he didn’t seem to exactly fit in. It started with him, with a seeming normal life —friends, going through college— and ended up with the same boy finding an outlet for his pent up creativity and helping the world through comedy. It was good, it was relatable. Kind of moving actually… and a perfect way to get to know Roman. 

 

After spending a few weeks writing with Roman, Virgil learned that he was at Whyte only because in case his artistic career failed. Much like the main character, this show was his creative outlet that would help the world. He was clearly the creative side of T.H.O.M.A.S.. 

 

“So?” 

 

“Uh…”

 

Roman smile quickly dissipated and snapped his head to look at Virgil, “ _ uh _ what?”

 

“Still not a fan of the names.” He shrugged, resting his arms and chin on top of the guitar. It had been an ongoing fight between the two; actually, the only one that didn’t involve the music part of the show. “The dude doesn’t sound like a Fleah.”

 

“What do you suggest then? Huh?” Roman snapped and glared at him. Virgil simply shrugged and start playing random chords, mainly to keep his hands occupied. He noticed Logan nibbling on the back of Bic pen as he looked over the lines. “See?! It’s not so easy to —”

 

“What about the name of clubs?” Logan interrupted him. Both Virgil and Roman looked at him before he glanced up. Virgil noticed him glancing shortly at Patton before shrugging at the two who frowned at him. 

 

“What?”

 

“If you’re having such trouble, simply use the name of the clubs.”

 

Roman scoffed at Logan, “Like Thomas? It’s too mundane!”

 

Patton frowned softly at Roman and asked, “Isn’t that the message behind the story?” Roman lifted an eyebrow at him, “that you can still make great things even if you’re like everybody else?” 

 

The four fell quiet after that, the only thing heard were Virgil’s chords. Virgil hadn’t lifted his gaze from his notebook since Roman had scoffed but he slowly turned to the writer and noticed the deep frown on his face. He looked like he was having an unwelcomed epiphany. 

 

“I… I didn’t even think of the message. It-It wasn’t intentional…” he huffed softly before grabbing his copy, his  _ heavily _ marked copy and scratched name Fleah before writing Thomas on the character list he kept at the top of the first page. “Uh, Logan, do you still have the, uh, list of other clubs?” 

 

“No,” Logan shook his head but turned to Virgil who widened his eyes at the sudden attention, “do you?”

 

“Uh, yeah…” Virgil placed the guitar next to him and flipped to the first page where he kept a table of contents. He read down the list before flipping to another page and skimming it; with his red pen, he circled the fifteen club names and handed the notebook to Roman, who had been staring at him. “Here.” 

 

“Thank you,” Roman whispered before reading down the line. There was an awkward silence between the four and Virgil found his brother’s gaze. He knew Patton was starting to get anxious but didn’t say anything. “Uh, sorry… guys… for, y’know, snapping… I just—I just want this to go perfectly, y’know?” 

 

“How is snapping helping it make it perfect?” Logan asked and Virgil noticed his brother swat Logan’s arm slightly as the words left his mouth. 

 

“It’s just… frustrating,” Roman admitted admantaly, “I—I’m trying my best but it’s hard when… when it’s going to be critiqued so —harshly.”

 

_ Why.  _ Virgil thought to himself frustrated,  _ why of all of the days, you decide to tell us your feelings today?! _

 

He, of course, didn’t show nor voice any of those thoughts. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said instead. Roman turned to look at him, his hands still fidgeting with the edge of the paper, “I could have worded my opinion differently… I guess.” Virgil struggled to say. He wasn’t the best for heart-to-heart conversations.

 

“It’s not just you,” Roman smiled at him softly, appreciating and accepting the apology, before looking at the others as well, “we’re going against  _ Oube _ . They’ve been in the top three for  _ fifteen  _ years.” 

 

“You want to stand a chance…” Patton read his thoughts and Roman nodded. 

 

“I want to make you guys proud, my mom proud. I want it to be good enough that, hell, maybe even get your parents to notice what you do.” 

 

“We do.” The three turned to look at Logan who hadn’t looked away from Roman the whole time, “We stand a chance, especially this year and especially against Oube.” 

 

Virgil blinked confused. It wasn’t a surprise that the Logan that sat with them, on the floor of the stage, was not the same guy who had been sitting in the back of the classroom when Mr. Kimms bailed on them. For starters, something in his voice had seemed to change. Virgil had noticed instantly and wanted to say it was Patton’s doing but given that nothing had happened since their ‘date’, almost two months ago, he couldn’t say it for sure. He hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy who reassured people, Virgil didn’t use to be and yet here they both were. Apologizing and reassuring one of their friends. It was insane how many things changed in less than a semester. 

 

“What do you mean, Lo?”

 

“Oube is used to winning,” he explained straightening his back for a second before hunching slightly as he looked between the three, “and they’re using The Scott.”

 

“The Scott?” Patton’s mouth fell ajar.

 

“Yes,” Logan nodded before looking at Roman, “and I may not be a theater fanatic, but I recognize a good story. And you wrote it in half the time they had.”

 

“What are you saying?” 

 

Logan sighed, as if the next words would pain him to say but he looked straight into Roman’s eyes anyways. “I’m not… the best at the whole… emotions thing—” he grimaced slightly, “but you  _ have  _ made us proud, Roman… and as for our families, you can’t teach new tricks to an old dog.” 

 

Roman frowned and Virgil frowned at Logan. It wasn’t the negative kind of frown, actually it was more of a  _ where did this come from _ kind of frown. A smile stretched in his lips, an amused true smile, before he looked at Roman. “y’know he’s right.” 

 

Patton was smiling widely at the interaction. Of course he was. Patton, between the four, was the most in touch with his feelings; so clearly he would smile like a proud dad when the two who hated feelings started reassuring Roman. God. Virgil truly hated knowing his brother so well sometimes. 

 

Roman looked between the two before a small smile crept up his lips, “was that a compliment, Virge?” 

 

Virgil groaned and threw his head back, “aaand he’s back to normal.”

 

The four chuckled and Patton stood up. Virgil watched his open his backpack and bring out four water bottles. There was a happy smile on his face; not the kind that showed teeth, but the kind that you know the happiness runs deep into their bones. It was relaxed… actually, now that Virgil thought about it, the four of them looked relax. 

 

“So, which character should we name after Oube’s club?” Roman smirked devilish.

 

“The bad guy?” Offered Logan.

 

“The best friend,” Patton spoke as he handed them their waters and sat back down between Logan and Virgil. The three looked at him. “What? You wanna irk ‘em? Mock ‘em.”

 

Logan huffed a short laugh, “you are truly worrying.” 

 

Virgil and Roman chuckled at the childish grin that appeared in Patton’s face. Virgil opened his bottle and looked at it for a second before raising it with a smirk, “to our parents’ fucked up lives.”

 

“Virgil!” Patton scolded him before softly hitting the bottle with his own, “don’t cuss.” 

 

Logan and Roman looked at each other in surprise, probably expecting Patton to scold him for bad mouthing their parents, but they quickly raised their bottles as well. They all took a sip after it and Virgil added to his toast, “without whom we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

 

“I dunno,” Roman pondered, “Mamá’s pretty cool.”

 

“True,” Virgil agreed. Helena was probably the nicest woman he had met before. Roman chuckled before closing his bottle and scratching the character’s name on his page and writing the new one over it. 

 

“Simon, you are now, Joan.” He muttered as he wrote, “now, what about the others?” 

 

Soon enough the four of them were lying on their stomachs, the list of the fifteen school’s clubs and the script between them, and all debating who was more worthy of what character. Virgil looked between them, mindlessly playing with the hem of his sleeve, and decided in that moment that he… well, he could get used to having the three guys around. 

 

It was nice to fit in a group and not feel suffocated by it. 

 

It was great, actually. 

 

“Uh,” Virgil spoke up as they fell quiet after assigning all the names, “two questions… what is The Scott?” He looked between Patton and Logan. 

 

“A theater we visited; two hundred and fifty seats, well known… expensive and pricks.” Logan listed off.

 

“Non-negotiable ticket prices,” added Patton, “why?”

 

“Why would Oube choose it, then?” He frowned. 

 

“Because they know no other school can afford it,” Logan explained. “I don’t think they know we’re competing this year. Whyte is the only other school capable of paying for a theater like that…” 

 

“Which brings another question to the table,” Virgil looked at the three, “ _ how _ are we competing?” 

 

“Huh,” Roman huffed blinking rapidly, “we still don’t have a cast, crew, and we need to start practicing so we should—”

 

“No.” Virgil interrupted him and Roman turned to him confused, “I mean, yes, we do need to get on top of that—” he quickly scribbled  _ cast & crew _ in his arm, “but I mean literally. If T.H.O.M.A.S. is only thirteen years old… how are we competing? Why are we on that list?” 

 

There was no answer. They knew that T.H.O.M.A.S. was only thirteen because of what Coach K had told Roman. Back then the coach hadn’t been a teacher, but a freshman at Whyte. But the list that had been attached to the invitation letter specifically stated that only the fifteen schools from fifteen years ago could participate. What happened to those two years?

“Roman’s right.” Patton spoke up before sitting up, “right now we need a cast and crew.” He fished out his phone from his pocket and Virgil frowned at him. 

 

“But what if there’s a reason to why Oube isn’t expecting us competing?” 

 

“We’ll look into it later,” Patton warned him and Virgil fell quiet. His brother must have noticed the sudden change as he quickly tried to explain, “I promise, but the show is long, and we don’t even know if people will want to participate, so we gotta put all our energy into this.” 

 

Virgil nodded before looking down at his notebook. He flipped to a blank page and wrote at the top  _ CAST, CREW, EQUIPMENT _ . 

He started writing down a list of the things they would need for the show; cast, tech crew, scenery, music, lights, props… “Costumes,” spoke up Logan with his eyes stuck to the paper Virgil was writing on. “Do you have any ideas for that?” 

 

Roman shook his head, “Not at all.”

 

“Remy can probably help with that,” Virgil offered and grabbed his own phone and started texting Remy while continuing to talk to the others. Patton was too immersed sending his own texts to who knows. “What about music?”

 

“We could get the band involved,” Logan offered.

 

Roman scoffed at the idea, “And have them learn all seventeen songs on top of their own? No way. They won’t make it in time…” 

 

“We could record them then.”

 

“If we must,” Roman frowned, “recordings are… not ideal. One failure and the whole show fails but if it’s our only option…” 

 

“It may be,” Virgil agreed. If they couldn’t get the band, the chances of them getting someone else were slim. 

 

“Emile could help you record,” Patton mentioned off hand without lifting his head from his phone.

 

“Great,” Roman grinned, “except, you know, we’re still missing the cast. Which is…”

 

“Kind of important.” Virgil smirked as he finished for him. Roman chuckled and nodded. “Remy can help with costumes once we need them.” 

 

“How? Exactly?” Logan asked. 

 

“Well, the characters are normal people,” Roman explained, “we can just go to a second hand store and buy them —maybe use things from our own closets to make it cheaper too.”

 

Logan nodded with a hum. 

 

“Now, how do we spread the word? How do we get our cast and crew?” 

 

“We can have a segment on the school news,” Patton spoke up again and the three turned to look at his radiant smile. He lifted and wiggled his phone, “if you’re willing to talk in front of a camera.” 

 

“How… did you get a spot on the news?” 

 

“I know the editor,” Patton smiled innocently. “So? Should I confirm?”

 

“Uh,” Virgil bit his lip doubtfully, “I don’t know… I’m not exactly… camera friendly…”

 

“You don’t have to appear if you don’t want to,” Roman shrugged but still looked at him reassuringly. Logan shrugged as well when Virgil looked at him. 

 

“Okay, then, I guess…” he nodded, “but we still need to put up posters.” 

 

“Where?” 

 

“Everywhere.” 

 

The four glanced at each other and stayed quiet for a full minute. They were already done with Stress Stage One, as Virgil called it, with writing the show and songs. He also knew that they were entering Stage Two and to be honest, that kind of made him nervous. What if all the progress they made with the show was for nothing? If no one auditioned or wanted to at least try, the show would be for nothing. Their efforts would have been for nothing.

 

Roman’s phone rang, marking the end of their session and that he had to hurry if he wanted to make it to his job. This had been their longest meeting so far, lasting almost three hours and a half. They started packing as Roman turned off the alarm on his phone. Virgil closed his notebook and capped his red pen before slipping them carefully into his backpack. Had they been school notebooks he would’ve just thrown them without a second thought, but he couldn’t damage this one; it had way too much important info. 

 

He looked at the other three; at Roman trying to set his scripts straight and pack them into an overflowing folder. At Logan trying to organize the  _ Le Rég _ ’s papers without damaging them as he had to give them back to the manager of the theater. At Patton frowning as he fiddled with the zipper of his backpack. His kept his gaze on his older brother… he had been acting strange. Well, stranger than his usual self. He was fidgety and quiet, and given that the two talked about everything and didn’t keep secrets between them, this was odd. Virgil had never seen him so reflective when he didn’t have a notebook to draw in front of him. It had been like for a few days –or at least that he noticed– and he had been planning on asking but something always came up. Like at that moment, he went to ask if he was alright but Patton spoke first, as if sensing that Virgil was going to ask that and he didn’t want to answer. “What about the people from the first meeting?”

 

Logan and Roman turned to look at him confused as they closed their backpacks. “What about them?”

 

“They might want to help.”

 

“I don’t think Kimms kept a list, Patt.” Roman shrugged.

 

“But if we do the announcement on the news, they might come back… that was at least ten people!” he tried to be optimistic, but the tremble on his voice gave him away.

 

Logan nodded and muttered, “you might be right. But we’ll have to see… and hope.”

 

“And pray,” Roman chuckled humorlessly. He shook his head as he stood up, “well, I gotta go. Like five minutes ago, so… I’ll text ya.” With that, Roman hopped off the stage and started walking down the aisle towards the door, quickly disappearing behind it. Logan and Patton soon followed but Virgil didn’t. He needed to think and knew for sure he wouldn’t do that if he went home. Patton must  have noticed the lack of the third set of footsteps and turned around; Logan turned too only a few steps later.

 

“You coming, kiddo?”

 

“I’ll meet with you later,” he gave them a tight lipped smirk, “I want to practice the songs a bit, and the auditorium doesn’t close for another hour so… I thought I could use the piano for a while.”

 

“Want me to stay with you?”

 

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll see you at home,” Patton nodded doubtfully and looked at him for a couple of seconds before turning and keep walking. Logan, in the other hand, continued looking at him. Virgil pretended to ignore him as he walked to the piano; he could feel Logan’s stare burning holes on his side. The two heard the door of the theater open and close with a creak. 

 

“Might want to have the songs in front of you, Virgil,” Logan spoke up before turning around, “it usually helps.”

 

“Thanks, Logan.” He muttered and soon heard the door open and close with the same creak. A sigh racked his whole body as he bent down to grab his notebook and take the papers with the songs to place them on the stand so he could read them. He just stared at them for a few minutes, the symbols swimming in front of his eyes. The only thing he could think about was the reason behind why T.H.O.M.A.S. was invited to participate in the fifteenth year anniversary competition.

 

Maybe he could contact Angelica, the woman who started Young Theater. Possibly she had an explanation, but if he told the others they would tell him to let it go and focus on the auditions. He’d have to contact her behind their backs and –shit. Virgil was the composer. He  _ really _ needed to focus on the music, especially right now that they needed to get people interested. With a frustrated groan Virgil ran a hand through his hair. 

 

One thing at a time. 

 

First: Auditions and promoting the club. Get people interested, maybe play a snippet of the main song on the news so people get a taste of the show. 

 

Second: Angelica, T.H.O.M.A.S., Young Theater, and whatever happened to the first two years of Young Theater at Whyte.

 

Third: Find out what in the world was happening to Patton.


	13. Chapter 13

At the rate he was going, Roman would bore through the hall’s floor before he even got called for his audition. He was tapping his phone against the back of his hand as he ignored with all his might the piano that echoed against the empty halls of Whyte. Every few taps, the phone would light up to show two notifications, which he was also trying to ignore with all his might.

 

**EMO (11:26)**

**You’re playing Thomas, right?**

 

**EMO (19:54)**

**Princey????**

 

He didn’t know. Of course he wanted, what kind of lead actor wouldn’t want to play the lead, but he also didn’t want to make it any harder for T.H.O.M.A.S. in any way. They already had the whole school board going against them, he couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the club if people found out he was casted as the lead just because he was the writer. 

 

That was the reason why they asked Ms. Siege, the theater teacher, to hold the audition instead of them. She didn’t even know that Roman was the writer. They didn’t want to be biased, they needed the best of the small selection of actors Whyte offered for the play, and Ms. Siege had been teaching theater for almost fifteen years. She was bound to  _ know _ who was good and who was not. But that also meant Roman had to suffer through the dreaded process of auditions; the nervous knot formed in his stomach, and the unstoppable pacing he kept doing up and down the hall. Main problem was, that because he was so nervous, he couldn’t even think of the dialogue he was to audition with in only a few minutes. The only thing that kept repeating in his head were conversations that happened earlier that week, as if they were a broken record.

 

The one that repeated the most was the one with Coach K, almost five days ago. It had been brief, not even ten minutes, but the more he thought about it, the longer it seemed. 

 

_ “Maybe you shouldn’t do any winter sports _ ,” Coach K had said. That was the first red flag. Coach K always told his baseball players to do other sports, like wrestling, in between seasons. Why? No idea. Maybe to keep them in shape, Roman never really bothered asking why. “ _ T.H.O.M.A.S. is a big thing, maybe you should focus on that. _ ”

 

“ _ I can do both _ .” Lie. Of course it was a lie. Wrestling’s meetings were everyday right after school; baseball was late in the afternoon. They  had been using that window of time to work on the play. Winter break had been a blessing of two weeks of only working on the play––and maybe the only reason why they managed to finished the show so soon. Virgil spent countless sleepless nights with Roman on the roof, with too much coffee and a guitar in hand. 

 

“ _ Keep it in mind, will ya? _ ” He had nodded at him before changing the conversation completely, “ _ if you’re looking for actors, trying talking to the Knot twins. _ ” 

 

That was the second thing that was keeping Roman’s mind occupied as he continued to pace. The Knot twins. 

 

Who the hell were they? Roman had never heard of them, but apparently literally everyone else had. No matter who he asked, everyone seemed to know the twins. Thanks to Logan (and probably Mare), he learned that ‘The Knot Twins’ were a pair of freshmen with a seething passion for theater. They had been part of the fall show––one Roman didn’t have time to even see––and were going to audition for the spring musical. Apparently they were good… also, nowhere to be seen. He tried everything, from asking around to getting Logan to find out their schedules —Roman knew better than to ask questions. 

 

Missouri and Micah Knot were impossible to reach. 

 

Roman had spent the whole week trying to find them, which cut his practice for the audition short. Not that he needed practice, he literally wrote the songs, he knew them like the back of his hand. 

 

There were other things going around his brain as well, things that didn’t involve the twins nor Coach K. Things that were stopping him from focusing on his practice. For example, whatever was going on between the Sanders brothers; it didn’t take a genius to know that something was going on. Logan had noticed, Roman had noticed, even Sandra –yes, his sister who hasn’t even met Patton– noticed that Virgil was having troubles. Even Mare, but that was probably because Logan told everything to Mare. 

 

Another thing was the question that Virgil had asked in their latest meeting: why is T.H.O.M.A.S. able to participate being only thirteen years old? Roman hadn’t meant to let it get to him, nor had he thought he would be worrying for a thing like that, yet there he was. The question going around his brain when he should have been going over the lyrics.

 

“‘Sup,” a voice startled him awake from his thoughts. Roman snapped to look at the owner of the voice and recognized Remy, Virgil’s best friend. It wasn’t hard to recognize him, though they had never really spoken other than brief greetings; Remy was the only person he knew that would wear a leather jacket over a crop-top in the middle of January, sunglasses despite the sun having set almost an hour ago –and, oh, how can one forget the brand new Starbucks coffee in his hand. Remy, like Mare –who apparently was his cousin, or so said Virgil–, was extremely easy to recognize. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook ya.” 

 

“You’re fine,” Roman dismissed it despite noticing by Remy’s tone he didn’t mean his apology. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Brought Virge a coffee,” Remy shrugged.

 

“Virgil’s here?”

 

Remy lifted his sunglasses and put them on top of his head before lifting an eyebrow at him, “well, someone has to play the piano for the auditions, don’tcha think?”

 

Roman blinked for a couple of seconds. Of course. It was obvious; Virgil was, after all, the composer. Duh. “Didn’t really think about it.”

 

“Well, you’re welcome, girl,” Remy smirked smugly as he lowered his sunglasses again, “I have saved you from a cranky Virgil and Logan –and, yes, Logan is also in there.”

 

“I knew  _ that _ ,” Roman scoffed. Logan was the one helping Ms. Siege, given that he was the least likely to be biased but also because Ms. Siege needed help sorting through students and Logan was an efficient papers man. Remy glanced at him for a second before shrugging and turning towards the door as dramatically as possible. 

 

“My job here’s done, so… adieu!” Roman rolled his eyes, briefly wondering if he ever looked that ridiculously dramatic but he quickly shook his head. He continued pacing but looked at Remy when he didn’t hear the signature click of the doors opening. Remy had turned around to look at him, seemingly deep in thought, with his hand resting on the bar to open the door. “You’re the one looking for the twins, right?”

 

“Jesus chris…” he whispered with a soft shake of his head. Did literally everybody know the twins? “Yeah. Yeah, I was looking for them. Why?”

 

“I know ‘em.”

 

“I guessed that much, Sherlock.”

 

“No, no, I— girl, you are super frustrating,” Remy scoffed massaging his temple, “I mean I literally know them, they’re my friends. They auditioned today, at three I think…”

 

“Oh great.” Roman grumbled. Everyone had only praised the twins when he was looking for them; if they audition, his possibilities for getting the role were severely diminished. “One less stress for me,” he tried to joke after. 

 

“For Talyn and Joan, Roman,” Remy added, probably sensing how stressed those words had made him, “and probably will get the roles, so, you’re gonna meet them either way.” 

 

“Oh,” Roman nodded, glancing down at his hands that had been fidgeting and forced them to stop, “thank yo—”

 

“I’m not telling you because I’m good,” Remy scoffed and crossed his arms, jutting his hip out. Sometime Roman hated how bratty the guy could be, it irked him to no end. Of course he was Virgil’s best friend. “Micah, he’s genderfluid. Goes by Pranks. When you meet him, look at his wrist… black bracelet means he/him, white bracelet means she/her.” 

 

Roman stopped fidgeting and looked at Remy. It was awfully considerate of him to tell Roman all this; of course he wasn’t telling him to help him avoid embarrassing himself, but it was still a nice touch so Roman wouldn’t go misgendering people. 

 

“Usually goes by he/him though…” Remy shifted in his stance. He was clearly not used to saying things like that, things he cared about, to strangers (because after all, that was all Roman and Remy were to each other). 

 

“Thank you, I’ll make sure to look for the bracelet.” 

 

Remy nodded firmly, getting himself together again and smirked at Roman with that annoyingly smug smirk, “oh, and hurt my best friend, I’ll see it myself that you don’t make it to Junior year.” 

 

Without another word, Remy turned and opened the door. Roman pressed his lips into a tight line before shaking his head. Like he would ever purposefully hurt Virgil. The guy was annoying as all hell, but he had helped Roman with something as big as the show without asking for something in return. Roman would never admit it out loud, but he respected that guy more than he has ever respected someone. 

 

“Roman?” once again he was startled awake from his thoughts. Logan was standing by the door that lead to the black box —the room behind the stage. “Your turn.” 

 

Roman nodded and followed Logan into the black box. “You didn’t mention the Knot twins auditioned.” 

 

“I believed it to be distracting, you needed to practice.” 

 

“Yeah, well, that didn’t happen,” he grumbled as they arrived to the wing of the stage. Virgil noticed him from where he sat behind the piano; he gave them a short nod as welcoming. 

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Logan mentioned briefly, “Whyte is… clearly not an artistic school. Some of these auditions have been… appalling.” 

 

Roman chuckled as he shook his head. He patted Logan’s shoulder softly before grinning at him, “Welcome to the theater world, Teach.” 

 

Without another word, Roman stepped into the light of the stage. He could barely see Ms. Siege sitting in the middle of the seats with a makeshift table on her lap; the lights shining at him were extremely bright. 

 

“Roman, of course, I was wondering when you’d show up,” Ms. Siege chuckled before she started looking for his paper; a paper he had to fill beforehand. 

 

“Thanks for answering my texts, you ass.” Virgil grumbled at him as he organized his own papers. Roman shot him a teasing grin, one worth of a prince, and then winked at him.

 

“Apologies, my dear nightmare.” 

 

Virgil shot at him an annoyed tight lipped smile, almost mocking the one Roman had given him before. Roman chuckled and shook his head before focusing on Ms. Siege who had finally found his paper. She scribbled something on the corner and peered at him over her cat-eyed glasses, “What song are you singing?” 

 

“ _ Traintracks _ .”

 

“Oh, you overdressed prick,” Virgil cursed him under his breath, making him grin and also making some nervousness leave his tense shoulders. It had been one of the first songs they wrote, it was the second one in the whole musical chronoligically. Virgil hadn’t practiced it in a long time —even less in piano since they had been practicing with Helena’s guitar.. “Alright… 1… 2… 3…”

  
  


—————

Roman didn’t bother looking down from where he lied––on his back up in the catwalks of auditorium–– when he heard someone walk on the stage. There were only three people who would go to the auditorium an hour and a half after school ended and he had seen the two brothers go on their own directions with his own set of eyes. Also, there was only one of them who wore shoes that could possibly make that much noise when walking on the wooden stage. “Call backs aren’t until Wednesday,” Logan called out as he stepped into the stage.

 

Roman stayed quiet for a couple of seconds as he listened to Logan walking around. He was probably inspecting the little things he never gave much attention to. “As if they would call me back,” he finally spoke up. 

 

“They will, considering the… uh, circumstances.” 

 

“I choked! I tripped! On my own song!” Roman cried out. He had never been as embarrassed as during that audition. Part of him wanted to quit theater altogether! He had tripped on the song he wrote, and not only once, but twice! After the auditions, he left with a snickering Virgil and an exasperated Logan; Logan dropped Roman off first and he had gone directly to hide in his bed. He couldn’t even look at his sisters or mother without feeling his face flush scarlet––a color he wore on a daily basis but hated when on his cheeks. He wished for the earth to swallow him whole and spare him, unfortunately nothing happened.

 

“You did quite alright, Roman.”

 

“You say that because you’re my friend.”

 

“While true, I also say it objectively,” Logan stopped walking around, “you weren’t present for other auditions. Believe me when I say you did alright.” 

 

Roman snorted and turned on his belly to look down at Logan through the floor of the catwalk. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Roman had been lying in it for almost an hour and a half by now. He noticed that Logan was looking up at him, hands in his hips, looking like a teacher who was about to scold a student. 

 

“Thank you… I think.” He let his head rest against the floor as he continued to look at Logan, “what can I help you with?”

 

“You could come out of hiding, for once.” 

 

“You can’t see me?” It was pretty dark up in the catwalk, especially since the big stage lights were off. 

 

“I do not have night vision, no,” Logan scoffed making Roman laugh. He stood up and started to make his way down as Logan continued talking. Roman and Logan weren’t the closest within T.H.O.M.A.S., they were probably the least to be honest. Both were closer to a Sanders than to each other. But to not be close and not be emotionally driven, Logan wasn’t bad cheering people up. Or maybe the two simply shared a similar sense of humor. “I thought maybe we could put an end to Virgil’s question.”

 

Roman skipped the last step and landed loudly, “how?”

 

“Mare’s at the public library, thought that perhaps we could find some answers.”

 

Roman grabbed his backpack from the paino’s stool and slung it over his shoulder, huffing when the weight of it crashed against his back with more force than intended. “Library? We do have internet, y’know?”

 

“It’s futile,” Logan answered as he held the door open for Roman to go on first, “I’ve tried already.” The two fell quiet again as they made their way through the empty and echoing halls towards the parking lot. The public library was almost thirty minutes away from the school, a distance Roman would’ve walked easily if it hadn’t snowed the last two days. It was a light snow, nothing big enough to make driving dangerous, but it was still too cold. 

 

Roman put on his seatbelt as Logan turned on the car and soon they were making it out of the school parking lot. “Why are you so nervous about the callbacks?” Logan wondered out loud before glancing at Roman. 

 

Why was he nervous? Well, there were a lot of reasons, starting with the fact that he messed up the song. Also because he was an actor and actors worried about callbacks, and because he knew Ms. Siege was a tough judge. He knew that Ms. Siege wouldn’t call back someone who wasn’t good enough for the play, and the mere thought of not receiving a call back was terrifying. “I want the best person to play Thomas, and if I do it, everyone will think I got privileges because I wrote the play.”

 

“So did Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

 

Roman smiled down at his lap. It was honestly weird to see Logan trying to cheer someone up, though he did it in his own unique way of stating facts and statistics, but it was nice. As if the brothers were rubbing off on him ––they were rubbing off on Roman for sure. He found himself doing things that he had seen the brothers do before; the trying to keep the mood light like Patton did or trying to keep his ideas realistic like Virgil constantly had to remind him to do. “Hey, do you know what’s going on between the brothers?”

 

“No,” Logan shook his head, “and it’s none of our business.”

 

“But… aren’t you worried? They’ve never been like this… Virgil’s really quiet lately…”

 

Logan looked at him as they stopped in a red light, “you should know by now, I always worry.”

 

Roman snorted, “okay, calm down, Halliwell.” He turned to look out the window as he mindlessly fiddled with the string in the rip in on of his knees.

 

“I just hope that if something does happen, it happens after the show.” 

 

“That’s… five months away.”

 

“I am aware,” Logan nodded. “But we’ve worked to hard on T.H.O.M.A.S. to lose it to a petty family feud.”

 

Roman blinked at him with a slight frown. Logan wasn’t wrong; they had spent so long working on the show and setting the papers straight, Roman and Virgil had spent countless wide-awake nights writing the play, Logan and Patton had to go through all the paperwork and the talking to people to promote it within the school. But at the same time, the fight couldn’t have been minor if it was shaking the brothers up like that. Brothers who are as close as the Sanders are wouldn’t be reacting like this to a petty fight. “You’re an only child, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, why?” 

 

“Nothin’.”

 

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. The radio people were playing some dumb game that was getting on both their nerves but neither reached out to turn it off. As they parked in front of the library, Roman unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his backpack. The two climbed off the car and hurried up the stairs towards the entrance. The library in front of them was huge; with two wings filled with books and the main room filled with tables and couches. He hadn’t been there before, personally books didn’t really call his attention often––unless he was looking for one for his sisters’ bedtime stories––as he would rather be the one writing a story than reading it. 

 

“So, uh, why are we doing this?” Roman asked as they looked around for Mare’s electric blue hair.

 

“Maybe if we find something it’ll dissipate some stress, and hopefully, their fight.”

 

Roman bit back the  _ Aww, you do care! _ comment he had at the tip of his tongue and instead pressed his lips into a thin line as he spotted the girl; he feet propped up on the table and a book on her lap. “Let’s keep our expectations low…”

 

The search, just like Roman had expected, was coming up fruitless after two hours of searching. The library had some records of schools but those were discarded quickly after realizing that they only talked about who worked where and when. Instead they had gone down the newspaper route. After deciding that they could not read the hundred newspapers that were printed during those two years, they discarded every newspaper that was printed during the summer. It wasn’t a lot, but their pile went down by around twenty-four newspapers. 

 

He had mentioned it again and again but if they had used the internet, they wouldn’t be stuck in that library. Roman went to slam another newspaper and complain when his eye caught a name in one of the paragraphs he hadn’t read. “Angelica.”

 

“Huh?” Mare lifted an eyebrow at him.

 

“Angelica, that’s–that’s the founder,” he quickly sat up as he skimmed through the text. Underneath the paragraph, a small  _ (see page 13)  _ could be read. He flipped the pages as the other two watched him. He found a whole article titled  _ Where’s The Money? _ with a picture of Whyte underneath. There was also a picture of a much younger Angelica a bit further down. “I think I found it… It’s from thirteen years ago, almost to date actually, and–”

 

“What does it say, dude?” Mare interrupted him impatiently. Roman rolled his eyes and started reading the article.

 

“So, um, ok. Whyte did participate the first year… under the name F.O.S.T.E.R., they also did it the second year, even won,” Roman glanced briefly at the two before looking down at the paper between his hands again, “they were preparing for the third year when people realized that none of the scholarships were given. Turns out the principal back then had kept them. They withdrew and renamed it T.H.O.M.A.S. months later.”

 

“No one must’ve tried after that so they kept losing,” Logan concluded as he frowned and leaned back against his chair. He was fiddling with a wite-out pen, probably to keep his hands busy. “We have to call Young Theater.”

 

“What for?”

 

“What if they don’t want the cheating school to participate?” Mare offered before popping her bubble gum. An elderly couple glared at her but she ignored them. 

 

“But we’re not F.O.S.T.E.R., we’re T.H.O.M.A.S.,” Roman argued. There was no reason for Young Theater to not allow them to participate. It had been thirteen years since F.O.S.T.E.R. retired, since the money thing, so technically speaking T.H.O.M.A.S. should be on the clear. It better be. 

 

“Better safe than sorry,” Logan provided as he fished out his phone.

 

Mare sat up and looked at him with wide eyes, “What do you think you’re doing, Oxford? It’s almost seven! You can’t call them no–”

 

“I’m not,” Logan scoffed, “I’m finding their number to call them tomorrow during the meeting.”

 

“Considerate,” Roman chuckled as Mare sat back down. “But you should probably talk… or Virgil. Actually, no, not Virgil.”

 

“What’s wrong with Virgil, you, or Patton?”

 

“They’re all directly involved with the play,” Logan didn’t even bother looking at Roman as he answered and simultaneously placed his phone back in his pocket. Logan had known them long enough to know how they would react, which Roman found cuter rather than annoying. “They’ll get defensive and, well, we’re trying to get Young Theater to like us, don’t we?”

 

Mare shook her head and ran her hands down her hair, before freezing. Roman followed her eyes and noticed how Logan was drawing little stars on his black jeans with the wite-out pen and then connecting them with even fainter lines. 

 

“Oh… my god,” Roman huffed before glancing briefly at the still frozen as she stared Logan’s drawings down, “even when doodling you’re a nerd… unbelievable.”

 

Logan frowned at him before realizing what he was doing. His hand froze and his eyes widened in panic. He had drawn with wite-out the Capricorn and Scorpio constellations. In his black jeans. It actually looked really cool in Roman’s opinion, but the other two clearly disagreed judging by their reactions. 

 

“I—”

 

“Do you have Patton’s number?” Mare quickly interrupted Logan as she snapped her head to look at Roman, a wide amused grin on her face. “So I can thank him for making Logan a real boy.”

 

Roman snorted and nodded. Logan simply capped the wite-out pen and covered his face with his hands. He kept glancing back at the constellations every so often, grumbling, and looking away again. Mare was clearly having fun with the whole ordeal and Roman couldn’t help but find it funny how their relationship worked. Mare and he were going to get along just fine. 


	14. Chapter 14

Mare left not long after the wite-out incident, still chuckling as she walked out of the library. Logan could still feels his face burning every time he spotted the constellations on his lap. He hadn’t even thought of what he was doing until Roman mentioned it. The stars had started as dots that he later shaped into what resembled Disney-like stars; he hadn’t even noticed he had done so! He didn’t watch Disney, not enough to have them be his reference when talking about stars. 

 

Mare asking for Patton’s number was only another reminder of how silly the whole thing was.

 

“So…” Roman spoke as he fiddled with a red pen, “why Patton?”

 

“What?”

 

“Why did Mare ask for Patton’s number?” Roman was smirking smugly as he leaned back into his chair and watched him. Logan hated that smirk. Oh, how he wanted to wipe it off his face. “Is there… something between you and our dear innocent Patton?” 

 

“Innocent,” Logan snorted at the irony. Out of the four, Patton was the least innocent. He looked back at Roman and noticed the grin, the oh-so-smug-and-amused grin. “Ignore I said that.”

 

“By Odin’s beard, there  _ is _ something!” 

 

Logan breathed deeply and bit his tongue as to stop himself from answering Roman with not-so-nice words. He noticed a woman sitting a few tables away behind Roman; she was glancing at Logan and ‘discreetly’ pointing at him as she talked to an older woman who sat with her. It took him a couple of seconds but Logan recognized the two women and immediately sat up straighter; an instinct he had developed from meeting all of his parents’... acquaintances. Logan looked at Roman, who immediately noticed the change in his attitude. “What time do you have to be home?” 

 

Roman looked around curiously, probably trying to find out what changed Logan’s demeanor, but he still answered without missing a beat, “Now, actually.”

 

“Shall we go then?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” the two quickly packed up and left the library. His shoulders didn’t relax until they were sitting in the car, with the heater on and the lights off. Roman turned to look at him curiously, with an underlying tone of concern. 

 

If the women heard any of their conversations, he was––as Roman usually said it––royally screwed. If there was anything Logan knew about politics was that every single thing you do can be held against you. Even if they were minimal things. A politician could twist things better than the news could. If they saw him drawing on his pants, that was bad. If they heard their conversation about T.H.O.M.A.S., that was even worse but nothing he couldn’t fix. If they heard Mare and Roman teasing him about Patton, Logan would be in serious trouble. 

 

“Teach?”

 

Logan snapped to look at the concerned Roman next to him, “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yes.” Logan blinked a couple of times before putting the car on drive.

 

“Who did you see that made you all…” Roman motioned at him. 

 

“My parents are…” Logan didn’t know which word would describe them the best. Famous? Famous sounded like they were singers or actors. Not a governor or a state advisor and lawyer. “Well-known. There were two of their friends ––for lack of a better term–– sitting a few tables away, and I…”

 

Roman snorted and teased him, “what? Ashamed to be seen with me?”

 

“My parents don’t know I’m part of this club,” Logan didn’t look at Roman but the silence was more than enough as an answer. He started tapping his fingers unconsciously against the steering wheel as he took a turn to get into the freeway; he chewed on his lower lip before glancing at Roman nervously, “nor that I’m gay.”

 

Roman hummed. Logan kept his eyes stuck to the road in front of him. He knew Roman wasn’t straight, actually… no one in T.H.O.M.A.S. so far was straight, that much he knew. But the silence was still nerve wrecking. Mare was the only one that knew, and it had been such a natural thing between the two, that Logan had never really expected it to be so nerve wrecking. It was a tightness to his gut that he had never experience, and as the silence stretched from seconds to minutes, it was a cold feeling in his heart of disappointed similar to how cold steel feels to the touch. 

 

“So you  _ are _ dating Patton?”

 

Logan glanced at the teasing smile in Roman’s face. “It was one date.”

 

Roman chuckled and the cold feeling dissipated slowly, “just so you know, I’m bi myself,” he spoke up later, “so I have double the wisdom. I can give you advice on relationship if you ever need to.”

 

He huffed out a laugh, “why would I need advice?”

 

“Well, you like Patton and only got one date?” Roman explained, waving his hands widely and dramatically, “you clearly need my help.”

 

“Mare’s smart but useless, so I doubt you have any better advice.”

 

“It’s that a dare?” Roman scoffed. Logan glanced at him one last time and nodded. Roman scoffed again and started talking. As it turned out, Roman did have better advice than Mare ever gave Logan about what to do with Patton. Maybe because Mare was more similar to Logan while Roman was a hopeless romantic (Logan noticed as he kept ranting about the many different ways that he could ‘woo’ Patton) just like Patton. 

 

\-------

The callbacks had gone spectacularly well and soon enough they had a cast. Ms. Siege had been nothing if not a blessing, with her organization and help; she had managed to cast everyone within a week and after her job was done, she left them on their own. The last thing they needed was a teacher getting in the middle of everything and mess it all up. The four had been doing perfectly good on their own so far. 

 

They couldn’t waste any more time and decided to have the first read through the next monday. Logan was the second to arrive, only a few minutes after Virgil who had already made a beeline towards the piano, and the two waited for the rest to come in silence. Neither of them were big on small talk.

 

He had called Young Theater during their last meeting before callbacks, expecting to talk to a representative but instead got to talk to Angelica Ta-Nehisi. As it turned out, people didn’t call Young Theater enough, so they had decided to keep her phone number as the contact number, making it a direct line without risking people over-using it. The woman had admitted to not being a fan of talking on the phone and asked if they could meet in person to talk about Whyte’s history with Young Theater. That meeting was supposed to happen at the same time as the first read through, but since neither Logan nor Virgil were really needed for it both would leave early for it. 

 

Soon the theater began to fill up. Logan recognized a few of them; Missouri and Micah Knot, Devontae Gupil, Lacey McFareleen, Dominique Shah… Matthew Grant. Of course he was there. 

 

Roman was the last to enter the theater. Fashionably late, as he liked to call it. He was carrying a stack of papers on his arms and the red binder they had all come to known. The binder had been where Roman kept his heavily mark script and the cleaner version as well. It had T.H.O.M.A.S. at the top in bold letters, and at the bottom he had somehow convinced them all to write their initials. Logan could still see his square-ish letters marking  **L.O.** right on top of Roman’s dramatic  _ R.M _ .. Patton’s and Virgil’s were hidden by Roman’s arm as he greeted everyone.

 

“Hey guys! Welcome to T.H.O.M.A.S.!” He grinned and everyone cheered except for Logan, who leaned against the piano, and Virgil, who sat on the piano stool. “I… forgot how big our cast was going to be, to be honest.” He chuckled, generating a chuckle from his public. It was almost like from a sitcom, and Logan didn’t know what disturbed hmi more: the sitcom-like laughter or the fact that everyone seemed to have the same energy as Roman and Patton. 

 

“We should probably present ourselves, shouldn’t we?” Patton grinned as he stood next to Roman, “If you don’t know me already, I’m Patton. I’m the director of the play.”

 

“I’m Roman, I’m playing Thomas and I wrote the play,” he did a silly little bow and Logan heard Virgil scoff at the dramatic antics, “the one sitting at the piano is Virgil, our composer–” everyone turned to look at Virgil in unison; Logan couldn’t help but smirk at the deer in the headlights look Virgil gave them accompanied by an uncomfortable smile, “and Logan, our businessman.” Logan simply raised a hand as a hello but stayed quiet. 

 

“We’re going to be working with each other till May, so we might as well get to know each other,” Roman finally set the stack of papers down on a table and turned to the group. 

 

Virgil groaned audibly, “more ice breakers?” Logan chuckled to himself at the glare Roman shoot towards the smirking Virgil. Logan covered his mouth with a fist, trying to be hide his laughter, but he could feel the corners of his lips pull up into a smile behind it. 

 

“Yes, Virge, more ice breakers,” Patton gave his brother a tight lipped smile. Logan took a double look at Patton and noticed Roman and Virgil doing the same. He had seen Patton cry out of stress, and laugh his butt off at one a.m. at a cemetery, but never had he seen the senior look so… exasperated. Yet the shocking part was that it was directed towards Virgil instead of the other two. Logan didn’t even think it possible for Patton to look exasperated with his own brother. 

 

Virgil was certainly taken back as he didn’t answer anything. 

 

Logan placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, his eyes still stuck to Patton, who refused to meet his eyes. “Virgil and I do have to do a bit of research before we can start recording of the music.” Roman nodded and motioned them to the door discreetly. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, umm, Roman–” Virgil snapped his fingers towards Roman, “instruments.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

Virgil did a––what in Logan’s opinion was kind of dorky––two finger salute. The conversation within the cast resumed as soon as Logan and Virgil disappeared from view. Logan looked at Virgil, silently asking what in the world was that. The younger teen shrugged and the two continued on their way to Logan’s car. The disadvantage of being the only one who owned a car was that he now had to drive everyone for anything they needed to do. Not that he minded; he liked driving. It was almost therapeutic. Almost. 

 

“So, research?”

 

“Actually, yes,” Logan nodded as he unlocked the car, “a meeting with Angelica Ta-Nehisi.”

 

Virgil, who was buckling his seatbelt, froze and slowly looked up at him. “Angelica? As in,  _ the _ Angelica, founder of Young Theater?”

 

Logan nodded once again as he turned on the car. 

 

“Dude, how the fuck.”

 

“I’m good at my job, Virgil,” he explain. It was always amusing to see the surprise in people’s eyes when they realized that if Logan said something, he was going to do that something.

 

“No kidding,” Virgil chuckled and finished buckling his seatbelt. In less than ten minutes later, they were climbing off the car and hurrying into the coffee shop, Twits. It was freezing outside; even though the snow had been melting, the bone-chilling breeze that came with it hadn’t left yet. “So, what time is she supposed to get here?” Virgil asked after they sat down at a table. It wasn’t terribly busy; there was a nice buzz of chatter, some students with laptops and notebooks open around them sat near them.

 

“Not for another half hour,” Logan watched Virgil bring out the red notebook and chuckled softly. Virgil raised an eyebrow at him as he looked for a pen in his bag; Logan barely stretched his hand towards his own bag before he slipped out a black pen and held it out to Virgil, “whatcha laughing at?”

 

“Simply how alike you and Roman are,” Logan admitted as he leaned back against the back of his seat. Virgil scoffed at him as he flipped through the pages, obviously looking for something in specific. “You are both strangely organized, and never waste a minute.”

 

Virgil smirked up at him as he found the page he was looking for, “if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you are complimenting me.”

 

“Good thing you know me, then.” 

 

Virgil laughed, throwing his head back, before quickly quieting himself down. He twisted the notebook around for Logan to see and opened his mouth to speak when a shadow covered them. Logan turned to look at the newcomer; it took him a couple of seconds for him to realize it was Remy, Virgil’s best friend. He was wearing a black polo shirt, black long-sleeve undershirt, black pants, and the ghastly bright blue apron with  _ Twits _ stitched in the middle in while. It was hard to recognize him without his sunglasses or the plastic cup of coffee that seemed to always be with him. 

 

“Wow, Vee, out with your brothe–– ow!” Remy glared at Virgil. Logan couldn’t see where Virgil had hit Remy but Virgil’s warning wide eyes was enough to know that the freshman was behind Remy’s pain. “Hey, Oxford, you’re the one dating Patton, right?”

 

“We’re not dating, but I suppose.”

 

Remy didn’t like that answer. Logan noticed in the way he jutted his hip to the side, he crossed his arms, and stared him down through unsure narrowed eyes. “Well, you’re smart. You’ll figure it out.” Remy shrugged and went back to his ‘waiter’ stance, writing pad in hand. He smiled widely at him, “Just know that I can and will kick your ass, now, you two ready to order?”

 

They each ordered a coffee and a cookie for each. They talked for a little while about T.H.O.M.A.S. until their order arrived. Virgil watched Remy leave over his shoulder before looking back at Logan with an amused shake of his head. 

 

“So, he approves of you.”

 

“I was unaware I needed approval.”

 

“Rem and Patt aren’t exactly close,” Virgil shrugged before taking a sip of his own coffee. Logan scrunched up his nose at the sight of it. Virgil, as it turned out, drank black coffee. Straight up black coffee. It was a bitter taste that Logan had tried to make himself like multiple times but just couldn’t; unfortunately for him, Logan had a sweet tooth. Not in the sense that he always craved sugary things… well, he did crave them from time to time but it wasn’t a constant thing. No, his sweet tooth was more of an inability to like nor tolerate bitter foods. “But I heard Patt giving the shovel talk to Remy’s last boyfriend, so… They care but won’t say it.”

 

“Oh… he’s Mare cousin, right?” Virgil nodded, “joy, it runs in the family.”

 

Virgil laughed again and placed his cup down. He fiddled with the handle of the cup before he looked up to Logan, freezing as he did so. Logan frowned questioningly but Virgil simply nodded towards the door. He turned around and noticed immediately who he was looking at. 

 

It wasn’t hard at all to find Angelica Ta-Nehisi. She was a tall black women with long dark-blonde curly hair. She was imposing and at the same time looked humble. How did someone even manage that? There was a small smile on her face as she looked around curiously. Logan quickly stood up to greet her, putting up his businessman front for a first impression. As he walked towards her, he felt Virgil clean up the table and push both of their cups to one side of the booth. 

 

“Ms. Ta-Nehisi?”

 

Angelica turned to look at him with a wide smile, “ah, you must be Logan, right?”

 

“Yes, pleasure to meet you,” he lead her towards the table and Virgil was quick to stand up and greet her as well, “this is Virgil, one of the other leaders.”

 

“Right, there’s four of you, isn’t there?” Virgil nodded as he shook her extended hand, “where are the other two?”

 

“Practicing, actually.”

 

“Well, it’s good to know you’re on top of things,” Angelica chuckled as they all sat down. Logan now sat next to Virgil, who had gone back to fiddling with the handle of his cup. Maybe it was because Logan knew him by now, or maybe because he was sitting so close to him, but Logan could feel how Virgil was buzzing with nervousness. Perhaps bringing the most anxious one of the group had been a bad idea, but Logan needed Virgil there since he was the only one keeping track of everything. Logan had absolutely no idea what the plan was for the show, just the cost. He didn’t know about dancing routines, nor props, nor costumes. Just costs. “On the phone, you mentioned a… Thomas?”

 

“It’s, uh, the reason why we wanted to talk, actually,” Virgil spoke up and Logan noticed how he sat up straighter, “our… club goes under the name of T.H.O.M.A.S.–”

 

Angelica tilted her head curiously, almost saddened, “what happen to F.O.S.T.E.R.?”

 

“That’s what we wanted to know,” Logan answered, “what happened?”

 

Angelica didn’t tell them anything that they didn’t already know. F.O.S.T.E.R. withheld the money from the students, therefore breaking their agreements. Technically speaking, that would’ve immediately taken Whyte out of the competition. They shouldn’t have been allowed to rename and continue trying. “We had to sue the principal so he would give the scholarships to the students,” Angelica told them, “but after he did, everything went back to normal.”

 

“Why?” Virgil asked before Logan could, “Why wasn’t Whyte disqualified and kicked out?”

 

Angelica chuckled softly before leaning back against her chair just like Logan had done earlier, “should I have punished a whole school of students for what a single adult did?” 

 

It… it made sense. Logan frowned at the thought. It would have been unjust for the students. But then why change the name of the club? They were on the clear to continue. They were even allowed to do the third show, so why stop? “Why did they rename it then?”

 

“I don’t know  _ that _ ,” the woman smiled warmly, “my best guess is that your students heard, got mad at the principal, and decided to change it. Whyte  _ is _ the only school that doesn’t have the principal involved.”

 

Well, that seemed silly. Logan knew as a fact that Whyte wasn’t the only one non-artistic school that participated in the Young Theater competition. And for a club that was supposedly student-centered, why would the principal be involved? That would only slow them down with bureaucracy. Logan noticed Virgil scribbling down a similar thought in the notebook. 

 

“So, tell me, what does the name stand for now?” Angelica sipped from a water glass that Remy had brought as Angelica told them the story behind Whyte and Young Theater. 

 

“Theatrical and Historic Organization for Modern Alliances of Students, T.H.O.M.A.S.”

 

Angelica nodded approvingly, “nicely done. Did you choose it?”

 

Logan shook his head, “No, it’s been Whyte’s club for thirteen years.”

 

“Well, as the representative of Young Theater, you are absolutely free to compete. F.O.S.T.E.R. is in the past and their mistakes with it.”

 

Virgil chuckled next to him as Logan smiled softly. Angelica would really like Roman if they ever met; both needlessly dramatic. But, dramatic or not, things were only looking up for everyone. Things were going great. 


	15. Chapter 15

The music blaring from his headphones was loud enough to block everyone out. Virgil squirmed his way past the students as the bell rang, no more than a faint shrill hidden by his music, as he struggled to get to the auditorium. It was Wednesday, the only day they didn’t have practice with the cast. It was their meeting days, except earlier Logan had texted them saying he wouldn’t be able to make it that day because of some family dinner thing he was dreading. 

 

Virgil took a deep breath as he finally made his way through the doors. He walked down to the stage  and climbed up the stairs; the theater, the stage, had become a second home to Virgil. It wasn’t a place he had ever expected to be a home. He expected even less for the three dinguses to become his family, but they were. He slipped off the headphones with shaky hands.

 

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re about to cry or do I have to fight you for it?”

 

Virgil flinched as he turned around, eyes widened and heartbeat quick. He let out a sigh in relief as he noticed it was just Roman sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the prop table. “I’m not crying.”

 

“Yet.” Roman shrugged and went back to writing something on the binder he had on his lap, “so, where’s Patton?”

 

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Virgil placed his bag on top of the piano stool and started rummaging for a pen. Not that he needed one yet… he didn’t even have his notebook out yet. 

 

“He’s your brother.”

 

“Is he?!” Virgil snapped to look at Roman before his eyes flew wide open. He quickly turned back and kept his eyes trained in his black backpack. He could see his hands shaking worse than before, unable to even pick up the zipper of it, and he could feel his chest constricting, tightening. “‘Cause– ‘cause he… he doesn’t tell me… anything.”

 

“Virge?” 

 

He heard Roman shuffling around, walking closer to him. Virgil moved away before Roman could reach him. “It doesn’t matter, we still need a, uh, we need a band and–” Roman grabbed his forearm before he could move away any further. 

 

“Virgil,” Roman didn’t let go of his forearm but Virgil didn’t turn to meet his eyes. He kept his gaze stuck to the black wooden floor of the stage, trying to pry his arm away from Roman’s light grip without much effort. “Look at me.” That was the softest Virgil had ever heard Roman speak but still didn’t meet his eyes. 

 

It was none of Roman’s business what happened between him and his brother. They were at a weird place with Patton. Didn’t talk to each other, didn’t see each other unless it was for dinner, and now apparently they weren’t telling each other everything. Since they started looking for a way to get away from their parents, the two had been snapping at each other easier and easier as the month went by.

 

“Hey,” Roman turned him around, “you can tell me.”

 

“No, I-I’m fine, I–”

 

Virgil heard Roman sigh and saw his feet shift. He looked up at him when Roman didn’t say anything else, so the two just stared at each other for a few seconds in complete silence. Part of him worried that Roman would be able to hear his fast paced heartbeat in the dead silence around them; or that he would notice how sweaty his shaky hands were, that would only worry Roman more… not that it would matter, Roman was already worried. The actor silently opened his arms at him, cocking his head with a shrug when Virgil only answered by pressing his lines into a doubtful frown. 

 

Virgil quickly threw himself into Roman’s arms, hugging his waist tightly and hiding his face against his chest. Roman’s arms draped over his shoulders as he brought him closer. Virgil didn’t––wasn’t going to cry, but he could feel his eyes burning underneath his eyelids. It was a stupid thing to cry for, everyone had issues with their brothers, and they get over them. And they didn’t solve them by crying to a friend. 

 

As soon as Roman’s hand started running through his hair, a tear slipped down his cheek despite having his eyes tightly shut. “I know you don’t really… like physical touch and all that, but you really looked like you needed a hug.”

 

Neither moved away as Virgil continued silently crying, his shoulder shaking quietly for a little while longer. “Thanks…” He pulled away, wiping under his eyes bashfully. He didn’t like crying, and now his foundation was going to be gone on top of having puffy eyes. 

 

“Yeah, just… don’t tell anyone?” Roman asked in with a hint of a joke on his voice, “I got a reputation to maintain.”

 

Virgil laughed quietly. 

 

“You should laugh more, you got a pretty cute laugh.”

 

Virgil rolled his eyes as he moved away from Roman, “get away from me, you sap.” He looked back at Roman and noticed him rubbing his neck and looking down at his feet. It was the most bashful or embarrassed Virgil had ever seen the guy. Not even when his sisters embarrassed him in front of Virgil. 

 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and wash this mess off.” Roman nodded without looking at him making Virgil chuckle. It took him five minutes to wash the rest of the foundation from his face; he usually wore a thin layer of foundation, thin enough that most people didn’t even notice it. It was as if it was his real skin. It was just his luck that the day he didn’t bring the foundation the day he needed to re-apply it. 

 

When he walked back into the auditorium, Roman was pacing around the stage, moving his hands wildly as he talked to a girl who sat in the chair Roman had been sitting on before. She had her feet propped up on the table as well, arms crossed at her chest. Virgil knew she played Talyn, one of the best friends in the play, and that she was pretty much the opposite of how she dressed. 

 

“Hey?”

 

Roman turned to look at him, opening his mouth to speak, and froze. Virgil raised an eyebrow at the sudden statue his friend had become and Roman quickly unfroze, making his way to Virgil with long strides. Roman was taller than him, so when he grabbed Virgil’s face ––squishing his cheeks between his hands–– and forced him to look at him, Virgil had to look up at him. “Holy shit, you have freckles.”

 

“Um…” Virgil could feel his cheeks warming up under Roman’s hands. Freckles, of course, were another reason why he wore his foundation. “Leh goo o’ mah faesh.”

 

“Oh, sorry,” Roman let go of his face and took a step back. 

 

“If you’re done with your lil’ gay moment, I’d love to start working…”

 

“‘Sup Missy,” Virgil shot the girl a tight lipped smile. Missouri Knot was a half-Korean girl with long straight jet-black hair and dark brown eyes who usually wore black slacks, a white collared shirt, and a light pink sweater vest. Though almost identical, her twin didn’t have a ‘usual’ outfit. They were always changing their style. There were also two white hair pins, a trademark of hers, pinning the front strands of her hair back.  “What are you doing here? There’s no practice today.”

 

“Missy can rap,” Roman answered for her. Missy pointed at him with a finger gun and a grin, “thought that maybe we should, uh, exploit that.”

 

Virgil chuckled and nodded, “okay, Logan,” he joked as he made his way to the backpack he had left on top of the piano stool. He fished out the notebook and Roman handed him Helena’s guitar, thing they had been keeping in the theater to avoid the hassle of bringing it to school every day. “Thank you.” He sat down in the piano stool after pushing his backpack off. “What song?”

 

“Number five?”

 

“Are you…” Virgil took a deep breath and glared at Roman. Song number five,  _ Grass Is Greener O’er There _ , was one of the most worked songs. Roman never liked how it sounded, especially since it was a duet between the best friends as they tried to teach the main character how to not second guess everything he did. They had re-written that song about a thousand times; now it was going to be a thousand-and-one. “Fine, any ideas Missy?”

 

“The faster the better.”

 

“So, I was thinking–”

 

“Never a good thing,” Virgil joked.

 

“Ha,” Roman stuck his tongue at him, “if Talyn is going to be rapping, maybe Joan could be like, singing from the heart. Long notes and stuff.” 

 

“Can Pranks handle it?” Virgil asked looking at the girl. She nodded and waved him off. Well, if Pranks could handle it, it wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe if they told the same message in two different ways, they could connect with two different audiences. “Sit your butt down and start thinking of lyrics then, ‘cause these are not enough.” 

 

Roman chuckled but sat in the floor, taking the notebook from Virgil’s lap ––who scoffed offended making Missy snort–– and leaned against the leg of the piano stool. Virgil shifted the guitar in his lap, ‘accidentally’ hitting Roman in the back of the head and giggling after. 

 

“You’re such a child, Sanders.”

 

“I am only fifteen afterall.”

 

\----

 

It took them an hour to get a rough draft, which was way less time than Virgil had been expecting. With Roman, it was hard to know how long it would take to write a single sentence. There was no better way to describe Roman than a creative perfectionist, which wasn’t exactly bad until it was. During winter break, there was one night that Roman and Virgil had sat in Roman’s building’s roof until the sun rose ––thing that Patton freaked out about–– with Helena’s guitar in his lap because Roman didn’t like how a single verse sounded. It took them all night to break his writer’s block and fix the verse. 

 

But Missy was a good influence. She was quick to produce beats, thing Virgil appreciated greatly, and somehow kept up with Roman’s creative ramblings, thing that Virgil could also appreciate greatly. He couldn’t, it made him nervous when Roman went on in one of those. He spoke fast ––faster than he usually talked–– and he could jump from topic to topic without a hitch. One second he could be talking about a chord and suddenly he was talking about a different song’s chorus. 

 

As Roman’s phone rang, Virgil announced that he’d work on it at home and would text Roman if anything else came up. Roman agreed and sped off. 

 

He grabbed the guitar and put it in its case. He then arranged his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Missy had decided to wait for him, balancing in the ball of her feet as she looked around the stage. Virgil knew for sure that Missy had acted before, in that same stage to be more specific, but she still looked curious about the place. Then again, he had caught Roman doing the same and Roman had performed even more than Missy.

 

“Did you guys really made T.H.O.M.A.S. from scratch?”

 

Virgil nodded but shrugged at the same time, “I mean, yeah.” He grabbed the guitar and the two made their way out of the stage; they had to go out the back so they could turn off the lights since there was no theater practice after them. “Roman wrote the play, I composed, Logan had to check the legality of every paper we had, and the my brother –Patton– is the one making the calls.”

 

“Calls?”

 

“We made a list of what we need,” he explained as he flipped the light switches off and watched the theater fall into darkness, “costumes, lights, music, y’know, the basics of theater. He knows pretty much the whole school so he gets the people.”

 

“Hmm,” Missy nodded to herself, “so, what are you missing so far?”

 

Virgil held the door open for her, to which she muttered a quick  _ thank you _ , “uh, music. And lights, but I think Patton’s designing light work.”

 

Missy frowned at him, “music? But you have all the songs?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil ran a hand through his hair, “I mean recording it. We… still have to find people to record it with. I know piano and guitar but, uh, no idea about any other instrument.” 

 

It was a problem that had been looming over his shoulders for far too long. They needed to record it soon in case they came upon more problems. They already had Emile, who knew how to mix music and record it somewhat professionally, but he was of no use if Virgil couldn’t find anyone good enough to play the instruments. 

 

“Wait, Dee hasn’t contacted you?”

 

“Who’s Dee?”

 

“Oh, that lying bastard,” it was clearly meant as a joke since Missy chuckled as she said it but Virgil still frowned at her confused. “Devontae Gupil, he’s the lead of our band. Plays Cam. He said he was going to call you, or text you, or whatever…” Missy fished out her phone and clicked something a couple of times before handing it to him, a new contact open. “So  _ I _ can text you about our band.”

 

Virgil chuckled and nodded as he wrote his number down and handed it back to her, “taking matters into your own hands. Good, might save the show.”

 

“Good,” Missy grinned as they exited the school. “Nice to talk to you, Vee. You should talk more during the meetings, you’re pretty funny.” 

 

Virgil smirked and shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It wasn’t as cold as before, but there was a strong wind starting to pick up. “We are going to have to work on the song, so, will think about it.”

 

“See you later, alligator.” Missy saluted him with two fingers to her forehead and Virgil chuckled. He was known for doing the same thing. He saluted back and they both walked opposite ways. He grabbed his bike and put his backpack in the basket of his bike and slipped the strap of the guitar case over his shoulder. It only took him twenty minutes to get home, probably because he was flying down the streets. 

 

When he got home, he immediately noticed both his parents’ cars missing, meaning that he’d either be alone or that Patton would also be there, though highly unlikely. Much to his surprise, Patton was lying on the couch, looking at the ceiling, and his computer was open ––though off–– on the coffee table. He didn’t move to acknowledge Virgil, so he guessed Patton hadn’t heard him come in. 

 

Virgil placed his backpack down by the feet of the couch and slipped the guitar off his back quietly. Maybe Patton was sleeping. His eyes were closed and he was using an arm as a pillow. Virgil quietly stepped between the table and the couch before closing the lid of the computer as quietly as possible; he then turned back and grabbed the backpack and the guitar before making his way upstairs. 

 

His room was clean… ish. There were still a few things out of place. Like a pile of homework on his desk, awaiting the day that he would do it, or like the pile of clothes he had hastily pushed into the corner of his room the prior night. As long as he could walk without tripping, it was clean enough. At least in his standards. 

 

Virgil stretched his back, feeling a couple of satisfying pops as he did so, while staring at the shine-in-the-dark stars he had on the ceiling. They didn’t have any patterns, he had been too lazy to even think of researching some constellations. But they served their purpose nevertheless. He glanced at his bed but shook his head; he was too restless to stay lying there. Maybe it was because of how little time it took them to write the song, or the draft of it, or maybe it was because his brother was downstairs. He really hadn’t been expecting for Patton to be home. 

 

The guitar had been propper against the wall next to his door so as he closed his door he also started unzipping the case. If he wasn’t going to do any homework but also couldn’t just lie there, he might as well work on the song. He sat down on his bed with the guitar on his lap. 

 

The chords must’ve woken Patton up because it was long before Virgil noticed his brother leaning against his doorframe. “Hey.”

 

Patton gave him a lopsided soft smile, “hey. Whatcha doing, kiddo?”

 

“Roman came up with an idea, I’m trying to work it out…” Virgil shrugged and glanced down at the notebook he had opened before him. “Wanna hear it out?”

 

His brother hummed. Virgil wasn’t the best at rapping. He could sing, and talk very fast, but not to the same speed Missy could, and the song was intended for Missy after all. He still tried his best as he showed Patton what they had so far. As he went through the song, Patton lazily made his way to sit at the feet of his bed. 

 

“I like it,” Patton nodded as he let his head rest against the wall, slightly turned to look at Virgil, “did you write that?”

 

“With Roman, yeah…” Virgil nodded softly. He was more worried in the seemingly dejected energy his brother had. He had that lopsided soft smile that he used when trying to hide his feelings; it wasn’t often that Patton had that smile on, so Virgil’s worry was justified, right? “You okay?”

 

“Since when do you know how to compose?” Patton asked at the same time, snickering quietly at their timing.

 

“Uh,” Virgil frowned and nodded, “it’s just putting chords together…”

 

“It’s more than that, kiddo,” Patton tilted his head back and glanced up at the fake stars.

 

Virgil leaned his arms on top of the guitar and rested his chin on top of them. He narrowed his eyes and glared at his brother accusatory, “Okay, what is going on?”

 

Patton didn’t answer right away, which was more of an answer than any comment Patton could’ve given him. He wasn’t one to shy away from conversations, except for the ones that he didn’t want to have. The whole family had at least that in common. If Patton was looking for the right words, then Virgil should be worried about the topic. “We… should start looking for lawyers, Virge.”

 

Virgil’s eyes immediately dropped to the notebook. “That’s what you’ve been thinking lately?”

 

“Yeah…” Patton breathed out before giving him the first genuine ––though tired–– smile, “sorry for not telling you anything. I–– don’t really have an excuse.”

 

“It’s oka–”

 

“It’s not,” Virgil glanced back up at Patton who had gone back to stare the fakes stars above him, “there’s some things you should probably know… Starting by––”

 

“Your date with Logan,” Virgil interrupted, fighting the teasing smile that was pulling at his lips, “you should start with that because I covered for you and never got the details.” Maybe this conversation would be the one that fixes the last couple of weird weeks they just had. That’d be great. He’d never have embarrass to himself in front of Roman by crying again; that would be a major plus.

 

Patton chuckled and nodded. He bit his lower lip and pulled his knee closer to his chest, “uh, you know Walkie Park? The overlooking cemetery?” Virgil shook his head making Patton scratch his forehead and giggle nervously, “there’s a lot to talk about then.”


	16. Chapter 16

The moment Roman got out of the school after the songwriting session with Missy and Virgil, the wind started blowing harder than it had done all week. He rushed to a mini-market that was a few streets away from the school; most people sneaked out during lunch time and went to the mini-market to grab a sandwich ––they did have some of the best sandwiches Roman had ever tried before. Roman hadn’t done it before, he wasn’t willing to put his baseball career in danger because of a sandwich. 

 

He opened the door and ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it back down, and made a beeline to the back of the mini-market. They sold flower bouquets, cheap ones, of different flowers. Roman surveyed all of them, all the combinations, and ended up choosing one that had an orange lily, a sunflower, and a bunch of other flowers that Roman didn’t know the name of. He then walked down the aisle until he caught sight of a red box. He grinned as he grabbed it and made his way to the register. 

 

The cash register was a forty-something year old woman with her peppered hair pulled up in a too-tight bun. She didn’t skip a beat before smiling at him upon seeing the flowers, “Hello, ooh! Must be for a special lady…” 

 

“Yeah, Mamá’s pretty special.”

 

The smile in the woman widened even more as she finished scanning the two items, “$9.10, honey.”

 

After paying, Roman sped-walk his way home, hugging the flowers so the wind wouldn’t break them. Once he got home, he opened the door to find Sandra and Eliza wearing blindfolds and Margarita giggling quietly as she hid behind Darcee, who also wore a blindfold. He grinned. If Darcee was still there it meant that Helena wasn’t home yet; she wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour but there really wasn’t a way of knowing with Helena. She always surprised them. 

 

“Ro’s home!” 

 

The blindfolds were quickly thrown off as the three girls jumped to hug him. Roman took a quick step back, barely avoiding their arms, and then showed them the flowers. Eliza gasped and grabbed her two sisters’ hands before dragging them to their room. Darcee raised an eyebrow at him and Roman shrugged. 

 

“Mamá’s birthday.”

 

“Oh,” Darcee chuckled and nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Thanks, Darcee!” he called out as she closed the door behind her. He then walked to the kitchen and placed the flowers on the counter along with the bag from the store. Once he dropped his backpack on his bed, he went to see what his sisters were up to. The three were huddled over Margarita’s bed and passing things between them, “what are you three whisperin’ about?”

 

The three shushed him in unison and continued whispering for a few more seconds before they turned to look at Roman. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, curious at what had his sisters so… sister-y. Each one of them turned to show him the birthday cards they had hand-done for Helena. Margarita’s was an absolute mess of colors, glitter ––which Roman noticed was also all over the bed––, and sharpie. Eliza’s was a drawing of the family with crayons and heavy sharpie stains at the end of each letter, a lot of sharpie. Sandra’s had colorful triangles, colored with colored pencils, and blocky letters. 

 

“They’re for Mom. We just had to glue the–– we don’t have to explain ourselves.” Sandra smirked. 

 

“Cool,” Roman motioned behind with him with his head, “wanna help me bake a cake?”

 

Their eyes widened and nodded enthusiastically. They carefully placed down their cards back on Margarita’s bed and scurried past Roman. Sandra grabbed a metal bowl from one of the cabinets while Eliza opened the fridge and started grabbing way-too-many eggs. Margarita was trying to climb onto the counter, though failing miserably. Roman helped her up and frowned.

 

“You’re not gonna help?”

 

“I’m gonna be your tester.” Margarita grinned at him smugly, wiggling in her spot. 

 

“Tester?” Roman raised an eyebrow at her to which she nodded vigorously, “alright-y. Umm, Eliza, we do not need that many eggs.”

 

Eliza frowned at the eggs in her arms before looking up at him with a face that clearly showed how stupid she thought Roman was, “yeah, but the more eggs, the fluffier.”

 

Roman chuckled and took half of the eggs from her grasp, “not really.” He placed them back in the fridge and looked at her expectantly. Eliza looked down and grumbled before handing him another egg. “Thank you.”

 

“Is this bowl big enough?”

 

Roman glanced over at Sandra and nodded. He closed the fridge and stood up. Their kitchen wasn’t exactly big, so Roman had to watch where he was going so he wouldn’t step on his sisters. “Eliza, oven.” Eliza nodded and turned the oven at three hundred and seventy five degrees.

 

She turned to look at Roman, waiting for the next instruction as Sandra placed the bowl on the counter next to Margarita. “What else?”

 

“Eliza?” she hummed and looked at Roman, “did you check if there’s anything  _ in _ the oven?”

 

Her eyes widened and she went back to the oven, opening to check if there wasn’t anything in it. Of course there wasn’t, after the last time, Roman and Helena didn’t leave things inside. They had had to leave their windows open for a few days before the smell of smoke finally left. “Nothing in it.”

 

“Good,” Roman nodded as Sandra handed him the box. He had bought the basic vanilla cake mix. It was the only one that Helena liked; she wasn’t a fan of cake in the United States, always said that it was a disgrace compared to Puerto Rico’s cake. Roman could faintly remember trying it once, when he was  _ very _ young, maybe around five or six, when his father was still around and they went to visit Helena’s family. But he was too young to really notice the difference. He just hoped that someday he’d be able to pay for his family to go visit Helena’s family again. Someday. “Okay, wash your hands.”

 

Once they all washed their hands, including Margarita who complained the whole time, they started to assemble the cake. The mix needed three eggs, which he gave to each sister, and three-quarters of oil, that he took care off because he did not want to spend an hour cleaning oil off the ground. Sandra poured the cup and a half of water and Eliza mixed while Roman held the bowl down so they wouldn’t repeat the accident of the previous year; there still were stains in the wallpaper from flying batter. 

 

Margarita licked the spoon and approved, soon they poured it into a pan Roman had covered in butter while Margarita licked the batter covered spoon. He slid it into the oven and quietly prayed that it didn’t burn. That was the last thing he needed that day.

 

“What’s that song that you keep humming?” Roman turned to Sandra as he closed the oven, “the hm-hm-hmm-hmhm-hm…”

 

“Oh, a new song for the play,” Roman shrugged before he went to the flowers, “can you hand me the scissors?”

 

Sandra grabbed them and handed them to him, Roman went to grab them but looked at her. Sandra scoffed and turned them around, handing him the butt of the scissors first. “New song?”

 

“Yeah, we started working on it today.”

 

“Oh,” he cut the paper that held the flowers together and then started cutting the stems. He knew to cut them diagonally because that’s how his mother cut them. Flowers were a favorite thing of hers; whenever she could, they’d have at least a vase with a couple of flowers on the dining table. They haven’t had flowers in a long time, mainly because they forget about them until they’re brittle and brown. “Why?”

 

“Because… It sounds better?”

 

Sandra jumped to sit on the counter and leaned to look past Roman and into her room, where Margarita and Eliza were attempting to read one of Roman’s books. Keyword being attempt. “If you keep being this perfectionist, you’ll never finish in time.”

 

Roman narrowed his eyes at her and cut the stem of the flower he was holding, “okay, McJudge. I get it. It’ll be done though, it’s not just me and Virgil anymore.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Missy, she plays Talyn, is helping us,” Roman nodded to himself and looked back down to the flowers, “she’s the reason why we’re changing it–– can you hand me a vase?”

 

Sandra jumped back off the counter and started rummaging through the cabinets to find one. “Still, don’t change it a lot or you won’t finish.”

 

“Well, thanks, mother,” he joked and Sandra hummed.

 

“What would you do without me?” she joked back as she stood up with a tall glass vase in her hands. She hummed the tune Roman had been humming before as her arms trembled under the increasing weight of the vase as she held it under the sink to fill it with water. “Here you go,  _ tonto _ .” She placed the vase on the counter next to him and scurried away. 

 

Roman chuckled as he placed the flowers in the vase. He moved it to the dining table and cleaned up the mess they had made in the kitchen. Once the spoons, bowls, and counters were clean, he grabbed his homework and started working on it. The sooner he could get it out of the way, the sooner he could go back to writing the new song. They had decided to keep most of the original song but due to Missy’s speed it wasn’t long enough. 

 

He was halfway through his American History essay when he had to take the cake out. He wasn’t a master chef, but at least the cake didn’t burn. After carefully taking the cake off the pan and letting it cool, Roman went back to writing his essay until he heard the main door open. 

 

“Um, you’re home early?” Helena chuckled as Roman stood up to give her a hug.

 

“It’s Wednesday.”

 

“Exactly,” she grinned at him as she kissed his forehead, “your meetings don’t last just an hour anymore, kid.”

 

The three missing integrants of their family quickly dashed out of their room and stood in a line in front of them with wide and bright smiles. Margarita’s bouncy curls had been tied in a precarious ponytail, clearly made by Eliza, since they baked the cake; and as she and Eliza basically bounced with energy, the curls bounced as well. “Happy Birthday!” the three yelled in unison and presented their cards to her.

 

“Aw,” Helena pressed her hands to her chest in a very mom-way as she kneeled to hug all three at the same time. “Thank you!”

 

The girls lead her to sit down in the sofa while Roman went to the kitchen and put the candles on the cake. They always had a drawer with used birthday candles, and some brand new candles in case they lost power, so he just grabbed some of them and lit them up before carefully placing them on the cake. He grabbed the cake and carefully walked towards the living room. 

 

Helena’s face lit up, her eyes widening and smile stretching further, as she watched him coming in. The four siblings started singing Happy Birthday, as out of tune as they could without bursting into giggles. They cheered as Helena blew the candles out and then Roman put it on the coffee table in front of them. “Why don’t you three go get your coats and shoes and we go to the park?”

 

The three lit up like the candles in the cake and ran off to their room. Roman sat down next to Helena and turned to look at her; his smile disappearing as soon as he noticed how tired she looked. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes despite being her birthday, and her shoulders were slumped as she sat back. “ _ Todo bien? _ ”

 

Helena nodded and offered him a small smile, “ _ Cansada, nada más. Un cliente desgraciado, nada de que preocuparse. _ ” She patted his knee and stood up, groaning as she did so. Her hands went to her tied copper-and-white hair and pulled the hair tie off, letting it cascade down her shoulders. 

 

“No… it’s–it’s more than that, isn’t it.”

 

“It’s just work, nothing more. Sometimes it sucks, sometimes it’s grea––”

 

“Don’t,” Roman stood up as well, “you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but don’t lie.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Helena chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. Roman pulled away and growled as he fixed his hair and Helena laughed loudly. The three girls ran into the room, all their hairs pulled into cleaner ponytails, and coats on. Sandra must’ve been the one to do their ponytails; she loved experimenting with hair. When she was four, she grabbed a pair of scissors, and chopped her hair off down to her shoulders. Worst part was that it wasn’t bad. Helena took her to the hairdressers and they asked what was wrong with Sandra’s hair. 

 

“Ready!” 

 

Thanks to the wind, the park was pretty empty. Most parents were trying to pull their kids away from the playground; probably fearing that they’d catch a cold. In Roman’s family, it would be the absolute opposite. They were tough as nails and getting a cold was better than staying in their small apartment with the constant fights between Eliza and Margarita. They would end up killing each other. 

 

They passed a couple with a kid ––no older than Eliza–– as they walked deeper into the park and the kid stopped before handing each girl a flower he had picked up from the wild bushes in the park. Margarita grinned and thanked him while Eliza turned to look at Roman awkwardly. Roman laughed and patted her shoulder. 

 

The rest of the way towards the playground, Margarita struggled to secure the flower in her hair, stubbornly trying despite Helena offering to hold the flower for her while she played. She beamed once the flower stayed in place. Roman played with them for a while, acting as the monster to their pirate game. It was easy to play games with his sisters. To let his mind free and just make up the characters his sisters needed. 

 

In that playground, there was no work, no weight on his shoulders about writing a thousand-dollar winning play, no problems. It was just him and his girls. Much like how the roof was his safe space, the park was his and his sisters’. Nothing could touch them there. It was safe… it was nice. Roman had always considered those two places home, not the kind where one lives in but the one where one feels safe. And now, there was a new place in his list. The school auditorium. With its black wooden floors, the green seats, and high ceilings that had amazing acoustics. Or maybe T.H.O.M.A.S.

 

Maybe that was it. It wasn’t the auditorium itself, it was T.H.O.M.A.S. that had been added to his list. Because being in the club meant at least an hour without having to worry about money, or work, or homework. It was just him, his creativity, and his friends. 

 

Heh. 

 

When did they go from ‘teammates’ to ‘friends’? He didn’t even realize when his brain had switched the two terms as if they were synonyms. Roman had good friends, most were from his baseball team, and the only reason he hadn’t been hanging out with them was because they were busy with their winter sports. And because all his friends, all those he called friends outloud, were busy he had just never connected the word to his new friends. Friends. It was a nice, befitting, term. 

 

Friends who counted on him. Who trusted him enough to put the future of the club on his hand. Who trusted when he decided to suddenly change one of the songs two weeks into rehearsals without another word. Who comforted him when he was stressed out and snapping at everyone. 

 

He was never, under any circumstances, going to leave T.H.O.M.A.S.. 

 

“Prince Roman!” Margarita snapped him out of his thoughts.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could we get those hard candies that Mom likes?” she stage whispered, “they’re only a buck.”

 

Roman sighed and nodded, “sure.” Margarita jumped in her spot and fist-bumped the air. Roman pulled her up and gave her a piggyback ride, walking closer to their mother who sat in one of the many benches reading a book. He quickly explained where they were going and then sped off towards the little shop that sold the candies. It was small, and locally owned. The candies Margarita liked were smaller than his thumbnail, and they sold them a dollar per pound. There were a lot of candies in the pound. 

 

“Thank you, sir!” Margarita, who was still on his back, grabbed the bag from the old man at the cashier before tapping Roman’s head. “Let’s go.”

 

Roman shook his head and started walking back towards the park. “Today was fun,” Margarita hummed as she ate one of the candies, “we should do Mom’s birthday more often.”

 

“What do you mean?” Roman frowned, tilting his head slightly to look at her as well as he could, “Mamá’s birthday is only once a year.”

 

“Well, she can have mine then,” she hummed. 

 

Roman chuckled, “that’s not how it works.”

 

Margarita shrugged careless and ate another candy. “It’s just that Mom’s always working and now you’re busy all the time ––not that I don’t like you being in T.H.O.M.A.S., but you’re always busy now.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay… but there is one thing that could make it better,” she grinned at him, leaning over his shoulder to meet his eyes, “you could get us the best seats for the opening show!” 

He laughed and nodded, “of course, Princess Margarita. Only the best for the princesses and our queen.” 

 

Only the best.


	17. Chapter 17

Patton shot Logan a wide innocent smile before chuckling. He made a grabby motion at Logan and his grin widened even more as he reluctantly placed his car keys on his palm. “I despise you.”

 

This was going to be the first time someone other than Logan would drive his car, and needless to say, he was nervous. He didn’t like people driving him; he liked to be in control of this most of the time, and having someone drive him was the definition of being at the mercy of someone’s hands. 

 

“Yeah right,” Patton bit his lip as Logan walked to the other side of his own car, “I know you like me.”

 

“Preposterous.”

 

He could see his own hands fidgeting with the hem of his black shirt, though he had no control over it. It was the same with his bobbing knee. He just couldn’t stop it. And he wished he could blame it on the fact that Patton was driving, but as he looked out of the window and towards Whyte’s building he knew it was more than that. He felt Patton’s fingers covered his own before he saw them. 

 

Logan turned towards Patton as the guy lifted his hand and brought it to his lips. Neither of them failed to notice how flustered Logan got with the simply act. It was as if his brain suddenly froze and every reasonable and logical reaction was thrown out of the window. “They’re not going to find out.” Patton whispered against his knuckles with a little smirk; no doubt amused at Logan’s reaction.

 

“I know, I–”

 

“Well, then stop worrying,” Patton chuckled as he let go of his hand and started driving. Logan noticed him casually looking around them, too at peace to ease any of Logan’s nerves. If they got caught, Logan was toast. He was so toast, toast would have to change its name. Sneaking out of school had been Patton’s idea, obviously, and for some stupid reason Logan had accepted to do so. “It’ll be cool. You never do stuff like this so, take it as a learning experience, Lo.”

 

The ride was… long. At least compared to their usual car rides. Logan didn’t fail to notice how Patton seemed to be taking every small road that he found, avoiding the freeway and highway as much as he could. It was probably to throw Logan off, he suspected, and it was working. He had no idea where he was. It took them an hour and a half of mindless chatter, something that never seemed to run low between the two, before they arrived. 

 

Patton parked in an empty old parking lot; the white lines in it chipping away. It was a mini-market’s parking lot, but that too was empty. 

 

“Where are we?” 

 

Logan looked around as he got off the car. It was a seaside town, that much he could guess by the sound of crashing waves not that far away. He turned towards Patton only to find him frowning at him, “you’ve never been here?” Patton asked. 

 

Logan shook his head and continued looking around.  “My parents aren’t exactly…” he trailed off. There were many words that could fit in that sentence, most bad words, but he couldn’t bring himself to badmouth his parents just yet. It hadn’t been long since he learned how not-so-perfect his parents were. “Trips to the beach were never a priority.”

 

“Well, then let me show you around,” Patton grinned as he locked the car and dangled the keys in front of him. Logan growled and snatched them out of his hands. He put them in his pocket and turned to look at Patton, only to find him wearing a little fond smile, “you know the best part of this little beach?”

 

“No, but I suspect you’ll tell me.”

 

Patton chuckled and stepped closer to him. Logan looked down at the shorter guy. “Well, no one knows you here,” he smirked as he intertwined their fingers. Logan snapped his gaze down at their hands in surprise, eyes widening, and a nonsense stammer leaving his parted lips. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest. “C’mon we’re not skipping school to stand in a parking lot.”

 

Logan glanced back at him, meeting Patton’s wide and mischievous eyes, before the the guy started to lead him away from the mini-market’s parking lot. “You’re infuriatingly calm with the ‘skipping school’ part.”

 

“Well…” Patton didn’t give him anymore answers ––probably to seem even more infuriating–– as they walked down the quiet streets with their intertwined hands rocking back and forth. There wasn’t a lot of people walking around, but considering that they should have been at school, it was kind of understandable; people were just at work or school. 

 

THere was a crisp morning breeze ruffling their clothes every so often. It was a cold cloudy day but it didn’t seem to bother them as they made their way down to the beach. The sea was calm, going back and forth at a lulling pace but apparently loud enough for Patton to be at peace while silently walking hand-in-hand with Logan. It was also quiet enough for them to hear the sand crunching under his shoes. 

 

Logan glanced to his side and noticed a soft smile in Patton’s face. Not the kind he would have during meetings or rehearsals; it wasn’t over the top. It wasn’t reaching his eyes, or showing teeth, or anything. It was a smile truly at peace. Before he noticed what he was doing, Logan was taking a picture of his companion. It was a bit creepy, he would notice later, but it was a good picture. “You’re smiling,” he mentioned making Patton snap his head towards him.

 

Patton frowned a confused smile at him, “I always smile.”

 

“Not like this, you don’t.” Logan was simply making a comment, an observation without purpose, but he liked the way Patton’s cheeks flared up. It was a nice change from him being the one always blushing and stuttering nonsense, “you seem content.”

 

“I am,” Patton squeezed his hand as he smiled up at him, “not a surprise, though. I am here with you.”

 

He scoffed and looked away, inciting a giggle from Patton. Logan didn’t like how physically weak his knees became as he heard the giggle. He wasn’t a fan of the sappy romantic things… well, that and the fact he didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t like how his knees weakend when Patton giggled, or how his cheeks burned, or how his stomach always flipped at the little things he notice. Logan hated it. Nevertheless, he couldn’t get enough of that.

 

“Do you ever think what happens after high school?”

 

“Well, college.”

 

Patton snorted, “okay, but like, what are you gonna study? Law like your parents?”

 

“Oh no,” Logan scrunched up his nose in disgust, “that would mean being surrounded by morons everyday.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“I’ll probably study chemical engineering.” Logan glanced down and noticed that Patton’s pants’ cuff were caked in sand from being too long and dragging through the sand. He didn’t comment on it as he glanced away, mainly to avoid Patton’s eyes.

 

Patton hummed and looked back in front of them, “But what do you  _ want _ to study?”

 

He scratched behind his ear with his free hand, mainly out of embarrassment. This was a topic he thought over and over, though never voiced out loud, and one that he was embarrassed about. With his parents and grandparents always hovering around him, telling him what he should study and what he should do, he never really voiced his thoughts about what he wanted to study. But just because he didn’t voice them, it didn’t mean he didn’t  _ think _ them. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat with a sudden burst of confidence; this was Patton, he wouldn’t judge, “I’ve always wanted to… uh, to be an astronaut––it’s-it’s childish.” 

 

“No!” Patton grinned at him as he walked a few steps in front of him to force Logan to look at him, “That’s actually very cool! I’ve never met someone who wants to be an astronaut… you’re the first one.”

 

Logan had to look away from him and glance at the ocean for a second as he felt his lips stretch into a smile. He didn’t smile other than his little smirks, he never really had a reason do so. The two continued walking down the beach in silence for a couple of seconds before Logan softly bumped his shoulder against Patton’s. “What about you? What do you plan on doing after high school?”

 

“Let me finish school and I’ll tell you,” Patton shrugged. 

 

The two stayed quiet for a few more minutes, Logan glancing at Patton who was deep in thought, before the older guy shook his head. Logan wanted to ask what he was thinking about but something stopped him. Patton had the same look he had when they were up at the Walkie Park all those weeks ago, when they were talking about their parents. He knew that Patton wasn’t fond of his parents; that him and Virgil were trying to get away from that house. So Logan didn’t question what was going on through his brain. 

 

Patton turned to look at Logan but looked past him before a smile stretched on his face, “you hungry?” Logan turned to see what Patton was seeing and noticed a restaurant-café with an overlook the beach. “They have really good ice-cream.”

 

Logan whipped his head to look at Patton and stopped on his tracks, forcing Patton to stop as well, “it’s about to start raining…”

 

“So?”

 

Logan shook his head. Why, out of all the boys at Whyte High School, did he have to crush on the crazy one? He looked at Patton who was watching expectantly. His dark blue eyes seemed to turn a dark grey to match the stormy ocean, and the odd light casted by the sun through the clouds made his freckles pop up even more. Patton gave him a little smile and, for the second time in his life, he did something without weighing the outcomes. 

 

Logan tugged Patton closer before wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He felt Patton freeze in his arms for a second before melting and wrapping his arms around his waist and hugging tightly back. Logan wasn’t one for physical affection, never really liked it, but that hug in that empty and cold beach, was probably the best decision he had ever made. Patton was warm, and comforting, and always managed to give him a whole new arrangement of emotions he supressed for so long. It was terrifying, and at moments Logan hated how these emotions could so easily cloud all logic and judgement, but at the same time he just couldn’t stay away from Patton.

 

“Let’s go get ice cream,” he stated as he let go, intertwining their fingers again before he started pulling Patton towards the restaurant-café. 

 

Patton chuckled and tried to catch up with Logan’s long legs, “you are a strange guy, Oxford,” he had the decency to say when he was the one who wanted ice-cream in a rainy day, “but if this is how you react, then I have to bring you here more often.”

 

Logan rolled his eyes and let go of Patton’s hand to drape his arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer. Patton nuzzled his face against his shoulder and Logan forcibly ignored the bout of happiness the little action brought to him. 

 

The restaurant-café was called  _ The Bean Bag _ . It was a red wooden house with white terminations and potted plants on the windowsills. The inside was as beach-house-y as the exterior with white tables and red cushions on the chairs. They neared the ice-cream display and chatted quietly ––well, Patton mocked Logan for his choice of ice cream. Logan liked the simple flavors, vanilla with swirls of blackberry and pomegranate. Patton didn’t. Patton preferred the overly complicated, like the english toffee with mint one. 

 

“But it’s so… simple.”

 

“What wrong with simplicity?” Logan questioned as the employee readied their ice creams behind them. 

 

“Nothing,” Patton shrugged as he rocked back and forth in the ball of his feet, “it’s just that it’s so simple for a complex guy like you.”

 

“I like to believe I am very simple.”

 

Patton scoffed and crossed his arms, “how so?”

 

“I don’t tolerate bullshit,” Logan shrugged and he heard the employee snort behind them before ducking their head even farther. Logan jutted his thumb back to point at the employee “See, they agree. It’s a much simpler life.”

 

“Lo, honey, you are far from simple,” Patton chuckled and stepped forward, kissing his cheek briefly before smirking at him, “it’s okay, it’s why we keep you around.” 

 

Logan scoffed and turned around to pay for the ice-creams as the employee finished the ice-cream cones. Patton hugged him by the waist as he paid. He knew Patton was taking advantage of the rare day where Logan accepted physical affection, and for that day, he didn’t care at all. Maybe it was because they were on a date or maybe because in that little beach town, he knew there was no risk of his parents finding out. Either way, Logan wasn’t going to stop Patton from hugging him from time to time.

 

Logan tried his ice-cream and smirked before placing it right before Patton. The older guy rolled his eyes and tried the ice-cream, making sure to get a bit of the fruit swirl in it. He pouted, “okay, it’s pretty good.  You’re right.”

 

“Always.” 

 

Patton rolled his eyes amusedly and started eating his own ice cream. “I never thought you’d like sweet stuff… I thought you were more of a black-coffee-guy.” 

 

Logan scrunched up his nose but didn’t give him an answer. “Where to next?” 

 

Patton shrugged and thought for a minute, tapping his nose as he did so. It was quite adorable to see. Not that Logan would mention it to anyone. His face brightened and checked his phone. It was barely 12:30 in the morning, they had a whole day in front of them. 

 

“C’mon, I know exactly where we should go.” 

 

Patton took the lead as he grabbed Logan’s hand and basically dragged him back to the mini-market’s parking lot, making a grabby motion at him. For the second time in the day, Logan begrudgingly surrounded his keys to Patton. 

 

“Do  _ not _ drop your ice-cream in my car, thank you very much.” Logan grumbled. He had gotten a cone while Patton got a bowl, probably a good idea now that they were going to be driving. 

 

“Says you,” Patton pointed at his dripping ice-cream and Logan quickly licked the melting ice-cream. 

 

“Not a word,” he grumbled. 

 

They drove for almost half an hour uphill. Logan, once again was clueless, but if he had managed to endure the first trip to the beach, he could endure fifteen more minutes. It wasn’t like Patton was a bad driver; he was pretty good for someone who barely drove around. There was a building at the top of the hill, with greek columns decorating the exterior in a symmetrical pattern. 

 

Logan turned to look at Patton confused as they parked. “You know,” Patton snickered as he turned to look at Logan, beating him to talk, “I think I’ve seen that face that you make when you’re confused more times today than in the six months we’ve been working together.” 

 

He took a deep breath but as he noticed the lopsided smile in Patton’s face he chose against giving him any answer. He didn’t like being confused, and he certainly was not going to give the guy the satisfaction of knowing for certain that he was confused. 

 

“C’mon,” Patton motioned for them to get out of the car, “you’re gonna want to see what is in that building.”

 

The two climbed off and made their way to the entrance. The two wooden doors were open widely, letting them see past the ticket booth and have a peek at the solar system model that hung from the ceiling. “Uh…” Logan turned to look at Patton as they advanced in the line. Patton wore a smug yet excited grin. “Where are we?”

 

“You’re smart, I’m sure you figured it out.”

 

Logan smiled down at the floor before looking at the solar system model. “The planetarium?”

 

“The Jordan McLaren Planetarium and Space Museum.” Logan glanced back at his date, his cheeks warm and a giddy feeling growing in his stomach and diaphragm. Patton must’ve notice the sudden giddiness because he snickered and tugged his hand as a way to gain Logan’s attention. He turned to look at Patton. “You said you wanted to be an astronaut–” 

 

Logan quickly covered his mouth as his cheeks warmed even more, “could you, perhaps, not yell that part?”

 

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Lolo.” Patton snickered and looked up at him as Logan removed his away from Patton’s face. Their face were very close, thing that Logan noticed immediately. He could feel his knees weaken at the distance; out of  _ all  _ the ‘symptoms’ ––that’s what he’d been calling it–– from his crush on Patton, that one was his least favorite. 

 

“I have  _ everything _ to be embarrassed about,” Logan basically whispered at him, glancing down at Patton, “it’s not everyday you see a politician’s seventeen year old son with such a childish… wish.” 

 

“It’s not just a wish, Lo,” Patton whispered, “that’s your dream… you don’t ignore dreams.” 

 

Logan shook his head and looked away. He was getting too close to Patton, if things kept going the way they were, they would’ve end up kissing. Not that there was anything wrong with that, if anything, Logan found himself  _ wanting _ to kiss Patton (he was going to need a long dinner with Mare to understand what the hell these thoughts were). But he didn’t want it to be… so public. Even though there was almost no chance for his parents to learn about their little escapade, but he still didn’t feel safe. 

 

“Next!” the ticket lady called them up. Patton paid for the tickets, explaining that since Logan paid for the ice-creams (Logan gave up after a few tries of telling him the difference between paying five bucks for food and paying way-more-than-five-bucks tickets), and the two went into the museum. 

 

Patton intertwined their fingers again, “why astronaut?”

 

“I should not have told you that.” Logan shook his head. He knew he had a few things Patton had told him, things that Patton would’ve rather have Logan not know, but that was also unfair. Sure, Logan was embarrassed about his childish dream-career, but Patton’s secret of drawing had literally made his life a hell the previous year. To Logan it was a teasing comment, to Patton it was a hurting comment.

 

“Too bad,” Patton kissed his cheek as they entered a room with an exposition about rockets and spaceships, “so?”

 

Logan sighed and looked away, towards the foot-long model of the Apollo 11 ship. “Stars… Astrology has always been one of my favorite sciences. The stars, the physics, the idea of exploring… I wanted to–”

 

“Want,” Patton corrected him, “just because your parents don’t approve doesn’t mean you shouldn’t follow your dreams. Or that they won’t ever become true.”

 

Logan chuckled and nodded, “I  _ want _ to explore new planets, study them.” 

 

Patton hummed softly as they kept walking. They stopped at almost every exposition, Logan explaining Patton all that he knew about each of them; he knew that Patton was a smart guy, he had seen his schedule at the beginning of the year, so he didn’t go around the harder things. He just said them, and if Patton didn’t understand something, he simply asked Logan. It was nice, it was calming, and the smile that had been on Logan’s face didn’t disappear until long after dropping Patton off at his house. 

 

When they made it into the actual planetarium, they chose seats near the center of the room per Patton’s request. The show began by the room turning dark and a light shooting straight up from the machine at the center before diving into the stars. Logan glanced to his side and noticed the childlike glee in Patton’s face, he probably had a similar look on his own face, but at the moment he cared more about his date’s face. The light glistened off and shimmered in Patton’s glasses.

 

Logan must’ve been looking at him for five minutes before Patton noticed. Both their cheeks darkened, noticeable even in the dark room, and slowly they got closer and closer until they were breath away from kissing. Before either could do anything, the lightshow above them flared up in red and blue making the whole room squeal in surprise and the two to lean away from each other. Patton giggled before hiding his face against Logan’s shoulder. With a burst of braveness, Logan pressed a soft kiss against Patton’s hair. 

 

They both went back to watching the light show and listening to the rumble of the speakers as they told the story of the universe. Patton left his head resting in Logan’s shoulder and Logan rested his on top of Patton’s. He had never felt more in peace that at the Jordan McLaren Planetarium in that little beach town. 


	18. Chapter 18

Virgil pressed his lips into the tightest line he could muster as he watched Devontae, or Dee as everyone called him, practice the song in the drums they had managed to borrow from the school without having them put up too many problems. He wasn’t bad–– he was actually very good. Virgil had played the melodies once and he was managing to carry the rhythm very well. But Virgil just couldn’t bring himself to feel comfortable around him; there was something about him that just made the hair in the back of his neck stand up. Maybe because he looked a lot like Dante, maybe because the first time they talked Dee only lied, who knows. 

 

Dante had pitch-black hair, long enough for him to put it into a small man bun, and light brown eyes that seemed amber if hit with the right light. Half of his face was a red puty-like smooth-looking burn. Virgil didn’t ask about it. He wasn’t that interested either, he was more interested in why Dee’s first reaction to him was to completely lie. Dee didn’t do it to Roman when they met, nor to Patton, nor Emile, and certainly not to Logan. It was  _ almost _ like Dee was scared of Logan, but Virgil didn’t dwell on that too long. He had to record the songs with Dee, Pranks, and Missy.

 

Emile clasped his hand on Virgil’s shoulder startling him from his thoughts. “Sorry, Virgil.” Emile chuckled and sat next to him. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah,” he glanced at the band practicing, “I think we’re ready.”

 

“Think?”

 

Virgil chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Emile’s. He had only recently started started trusting Emile, a year or so ago, not because there was no reason to trust him but because Virgil didn’t see Emile that much. It was usually Patton going to Emile’s house, not the other way around. But Emile was a good guy. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem, recording’s pretty easy when your mom work–”

 

“I-I mean,” Virgil interrupted him, avoiding Emile’s eyes, “for helping Patton last year…”

 

After getting home after the writing session with Roman and Missy, Patton told him everything he hadn’t known for the last two years. Turned out that Virgil only knew the little things; how Patton was a cheerleader and how he liked to draw. His brother turned out to be a lot different than what Virgil knew. Patton sneaked out a lot during Sophomore year, he went to parties, tried alcohol, even tried smoking once but swore it off because he absolutely hated it. He got rid of all friends but Emile, never did theater, and had hundreds of pictures and drawings of places Virgil didn’t even know existed; sunsets and sunrises from between trees and hills Virgil has never seen before. 

 

Patton took him to Walkie Park and kept telling him story after story of dumb stuff he had done behind Virgil’s back. He’d tear up, make a pun, and continue with the story. When he finished, he turned to Virgil with an expectant look. All he could muster to say was  _ Patton, you’re gonna be the reason of my premature death. _ With every story he felt his anxiety for his brother spike up, so of course that had been the only thing that he could say. 

 

That had been almost a month ago. And it wasn’t till now that Virgil could thank Emile. 

 

Emile hummed, “In what?”

 

“When his friends became toxic and…” Virgil turned to look at Emile and noticed the smirk Emile was trying to hide, “you’re an ass, Picani.”

 

“Sorry,” he chuckled as he dropped his head, “I just wanted to see how far you’d go while thanking me.”

 

Virgil shook his head, “here I am, trying to thank you, and you make fun of my awkwardness? That’s cold.”

 

Emile raised his hands in faux innocence and Virgil just walked away, making his way to Dee. He could still hear Emile snickering childishly behind him. Dee stopped playing the drums and looked at him, running a hand through his hair and raising a single eyebrow. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

Virgil had to forcibly stop himself from scoffing, “we’re gonna start recording.” Without another word, he turned around and ignored how Dee scoffed behind him. Oh, he could really not tolerate that brown-eyed liar. “Missy, Pranks, you ready?”

 

“What song?” Missy cracked her knuckles and grabbed her violin, a faint smile in her face. She was clearly way too excited to play the new version of  _ Grass Is Greener O’er There _ . Virgil shook his head and her smile dropped into a scowl, “dammit. Are we doing them in order?”

 

“Easier for Emile.”

 

“Is JayJay not gonna be part of this?” Pranks asked as she grabbed her saxophone. 

 

Virgil frowned at her, “who’s JayJay?”

 

Missy’s shoulders sagged as she turned to look at Dee with the same expression of a disappointed mother. Dee hummed innocently and hit the cymbal before grinning up at them. Missy turned to look at Virgil, “He’s our lead singer. Doesn’t know any instruments and had a bunch of homework so he didn’t want to come.”

 

Virgil turned around placing his hands on his hips and giving Dee an annoyed tight-lipped smile, “Thanks, dude.”

 

“You are very welcome. Dude.”

 

Emile cleared his throat and motioned Virgil towards the next room. They were currently using Emile’s mother’s studio. As long as they didn’t break anything, they were allowed to use it all the time they needed, and since Emile knew how to use the consoles, they wouldn’t break anything. 

 

The room with the instruments was big; with a couch and bean bags, and about a hundred different wires connecting microphones that stood in front of every instrument ran along the floor. They had needed to bring their own instruments since Emile’s mom didn’t trust them  _ that _ much, but it had been somewhat easy. Missy and Pranks owned theirs, and the school had let them borrow the drums. Virgil had brought Helena’s guitar and they convince Emile’s mom to use the grand piano with the excuse that the grand piano was already there and too much hassle to move. 

 

Virgil and Emile entered the adjacent room and looked at the band through the thick glass that separated them. Missy took center stage and signalled the other two when to start. They recorded each song three times, enough for Emile to piece the good parts together if he needed to edit them. They were in their first recording of  _ Grass Is Greener O’er There _ when Virgil heard a knock in their door. He motioned for the band to stop and to give him a second.

 

“Are you serious?” Missy groaned. Virgil waved her off as he made his way to the door, and opened it.

 

“Hey…”

 

“Patt–” he noticed the big yellow envelope in his brother’s hand. His stomach dropped as he glanced over his shoulder. Emile’s shoulders had dropped and he was avoiding looking at them while the band was confused at the obvious shift in the atmosphere around them. “Is that…”

 

“Lawyer dropped it off this morning,” Patton muttered. He was fidgeting with the envelope, tapping his fingers against it mindlessly. Virgil nodded and turned around, his hands were too shaky for his like so he stuffed them into his pocket, and walked up to the console. He could hear Patton entering the room and closing the door behind him quietly. “Hey Emile.”

 

“Patton,” Emile gave him a brief hug, patting his shoulder reassuringly. 

 

“Umm, can we pick it up tomorrow, guys?”

 

He could see Dee scoff annoyed and cross his arms, muttering something. Pranks and Missy, in the other hand, shared a concerned look and turned to look at Virgil almost in unison. “Everything okay?” Pranks asked and the microphone intended for her saxophone picked it up. Virgil nodded softly and unconvincingly, even to him. 

 

“Yeah… just, something came up and…” he closed his eyes as he took a deep breath before giving them a tight lipped smile, “I promise we’ll start with number five, Missy.” 

 

“Hey,” Missy waved him off, “don’t worry. Take care of whatever you gotta take care of.” Dee made a motion to speak and Missy stopped him; discreetly moving her hand across her throat as a way of telling him to cut it off. Virgil ignored it and the three started packing up. The school didn’t need the drums for another three days, they’d be alright. Neither him nor Patton or Emile said a word until the band left. 

 

As they closed the door, Emile turned to Patton, “I should go too.”

 

“You can stay, if you want,” the brothers said in unison chuckling sadly as they noticed. Emile nodded and dropped back the backpack he had started to pick up. 

 

“Virge just has to read it and if there’s anything you don’t like, we send it back,” Patton explained as they made their way into the recording room to sit down in the bean bags and couch. Virgil plopped down on one of the beanbags and Patton handed him the envelope. 

 

He hated the weight of it between his hands, but he hated the most how much hope it also brought him. They had been talking to a lawyer, paid by the money they inherited from their grandmother when she passed away. The first idea they had was simply for Virgil to emancipate. 

 

Patton was already legally an adult so they thought that maybe it would be easier to make Virgil a legal adult as well. Their lawyer quickly shot their idea down and said that the judge who had to sign it wouldn’t find a good reason for him to emancipate and they’d deny him. Instead, the lawyer offered that Patton took custody of Virgil; by taking custody, or making Patton his legal guardian, it’d be much easier ––and cheaper–– to win the case. Especially with the stories the two could tell. 

 

The brothers decided to try and convince their parents to willingly give Patton custody over Virgil before they tried it with lawyers. Virgil dropped it on his lap once he finished and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

“Anything to say?”

 

“We’re still waiting till Friday, right? ‘Cause I don’t think I can do this today…”

 

Patton chuckled and nodded. Emile patted Patton’s back and gave the two a beaming smile, “anyone up for a cheer-me-up pizza?”

 

The brothers chuckled and grinned as well. They made their way out of the studio and turned off all the mixers and lights before locking the door behind them. Their trip to the pizza place was enough to untangle all the knots in Virgil’s stomach. By the time the two arrived home, the sky was dark and both of their parents’ cars were parked in the driveway. 

 

They opened the door and made a beeline towards the stairs, neither in a mood to talk to their parents, but both froze when they heard their names being called. Virgil turned around slowly and noticed their parents sitting in the same couch, though at the opposite corners, and that they weren’t fighting. Instead, both held glasses of wine, both probably more full than they should have been. Patton stepped down to the same step where Virgil stood, almost as if shielding him, thing Virgil was grateful for. 

 

“Can you come down here?” Margaret asked them, “we need to talk.”

 

The two made their way towards their parents quietly, sitting together in the empty couch facing their parents. Virgil eyed his parents in silence. The two sitting together without fighting was strange, but seeing both of them so relaxed around each other… it was a whole different story. Virgil had never seen them like this. He had also never seen them without saying anything negative towards either son. 

 

“What’s up?” Patton asked with faux nonchalance after a few minutes in silence. 

 

“We, uh,” Daniel looked at Patton and then at Virgil. It took everything in him to not look away. “Your mother and I are going to divorce.” 

 

They could’ve heard a pin drop with the silence that fell on the room. Virgil was sure his and Patton’s jaw had dropped but he couldn’t be sure because his brain was stuck to the  _ divorce _ part. And suddenly he was angry. “Excuse me, what? Divorce?”

 

Bouts of anger and exasperation. Part of him wanted to laugh at the stupidity of the situation. Divorce? They were too late. Fifteen years too late. Why couldn’t have they thought of this before making their kids’ life miserable? Before the fights started being outside of their bedroom, before they started dragging the kids into them, before anything happened. 

 

“It’s just, we don’t work out, and–”

 

“No shit.” Virgil spat. His brother nudged his knee with his own and widened his eyes at him as if telling him to watch it. 

 

“I’m sorry?” 

 

“You should be!” Virgil ignored the even wider eyes Patton was giving him as he stood up, “all you’ve done is fight, I-I-I don’t have  _ any _ memories without you two fighting. And  _ now _ you’re thinking about divorce?”

 

Margaret and Daniel simply blinked up at him owlishly. Maybe later that night he’d regret all the words that were pouring out of his mouth, but at the moment, Virgil was mad. He was furious. Not because they insulted him more often than complimented him, but because they did that to Patton. To his brother. To the one person in the world who cared about him and now they were talking about divorce. He could feel the anger turn into metaphorical magma running through his veins. He wanted to scream, and laugh, and break something, but all he could do was just glare and scream at his surprised parents. 

 

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Virge–”

 

“Virgil. It’s Virgil.”

 

Margaret nodded, “I’m so sorry, Virgil. I-I became a monster, didn’t I?”

 

“We,” Daniel corrected her. Virgil turned to Patton and noticed at he was no longer looking at their parents but at the backpack he had dropped in the stairs. “I am sorry, I guess I let my anger against Margaret hurt you too.”

 

Patton scoffed but didn’t say anything else nor looked at them. Virgil looked back and forth between his parents and Patton. His brother was resting against the back of the couch, almost as if he wanted to be swallowed by the cushions, and a deep frown replaced the usual smile. 

 

“The papers won’t be finalized for another month,” Margaret spoke up after a few seconds, “and we wanted to let Virgil choose with who he wants to stay.”

 

Patton snapped his head to look at them before looking up at Virgil; he probably expected to see Virgil frozen, and part of him wanted to be frozen, but he was angrier than before. Why, of all things, this is the one they care about? They had no idea about his plan with Patton, so why would they think he would choose between them? The woman who made his life a misery or the man who made his life a misery. He wouldn’t choose either of them. He just… couldn’t. Maybe a year or two ago he would’ve chosen Daniel; the one that never insulted Virgil directly. But that would’ve felt like betraying Patton, who was always the target of Daniel’s insults. 

 

Virgil took a deep breath to keep himself from bursting again, “What about Patton?” 

 

“Patton starts college in a couple of months,” Daniel explained, “he’d be gone either way.” 

 

“How considerate of you,” Virgil growled as he glared at them. Patton tugged his sleeve and Virgil looked at him. He didn’t need to say any words for Virgil to understand; he nodded and Patton pulled him to sit down before standing up and making his way to the stairs. 

 

“Can you… can you promise something?” Patton asked as he picked up his backpack and turned to look at their parents. Margaret and Daniel nodded at him. “Will you treat Virgil better?” 

 

“What?” Virgil snapped his head to look at Patton but Patton didn’t look at him back. He kept his eyes on his parents. 

 

“That he won’t ever feel neglected, or afraid, of you?” 

 

Margaret and Daniel looked at each other before answering in unison. “Yeah.” 

 

Patton sighed as he sat back down next to Virgil, “no, you can’t.”

 

Daniel scoffed, “what do you mean we can’t?” 

 

Virgil watched his brother give them a disappointed smile at his parents, “you wouldn’t have hesitated if it was true.” Virgil zipped open the backpack and slid out the yellow packet. He then slid out the papers from inside and laid them on the coffee table that separated them. “I-I don’t know how else to say so I’m just gonna say it. I want Virgil’s custody.” 

 

They both frowned and dove in to read the paper. 

 

“I’m nineteen, and you’ve always cared more about your jobs anyway… this way you can give your full-time to work and we can focus on studying,” Patton explained and Virgil wrung his hands nervously. “You don’t have to pay for anything and—”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel shook his head and Patton quickly shut up, “you may be his guardian but I’m still the father of you two. The day you were born I swore I’d pay for whatever you needed.” 

 

“You’ll—You’ll sign?” 

 

Daniel looked at both of them, “not all of us are made to be fathers… I’m sorry I didn’t realize until now.” 

 

Virgil blinked slowly. What the fuck was that answer. Patton placed a hand on Virgil’s forearm, probably predicting his reaction to the answer. 

 

“If it means you can live better, I’ll sign and pay.”

 

Margaret was looking down at her hands in silence during the conversation. Virgil turned to look at her and waited for her answer. She huffed out a chuckle and looked up, meeting with his eyes, “Okay.” 

 

“Okay?”

 

“I’ll sign and pay.” Margaret gave them a sad smile, “when you were born, I swore you’d never need anything, and if that means letting you both go and pay, then I will.” 

 

Virgil nodded and averted his gaze towards the paper in between the four. He grabbed them and placed them back into the envelope. He knew they couldn’t sign it without the lawyer as a witness. They decided to order pizza that day, and for the first time in years, dinner was filled with polite chatter and no fights. 

 

It wasn’t until he was on his bed later that night that everything sunk in. He had to cover his mouth to muffle a sob. He quickly jumped off his bed and snuck into Patton’s room, only to find him texting someone. Patton looked up and gave him a little smile, patting the space next to me. Virgil took no time to jump next to his brother and hide his face against his back. “Hey,” Patton whispered as he turned off the phone and turned around. 

 

“Doesn’t it bother you that… they didn’t care?” Virgil whispered with a rough voice. 

 

“Kind of,” Patton admitted as he ran his hand through his hair, “but… at the same time… they’re smart people.” 

 

“Eh.” Virgil giggled making Patton snicker next to him. 

 

“They know what’s best for all of us,” Patton whispered and Virgil chuckled. 

 

“We’re smarter.” 

 

“Damn right.” 


	19. Chapter 19

Patton didn’t regret asking for Virgil’s custody, he’d never regret that, but there were moments such as now that he wondered if this really was their best decision. He sat in one of the green seats in the auditorium as he watched the cast go through the whole play, stopping sometimes when Patton had a comment or when someone had a question. Virgil was sitting behind the piano, playing the songs as the other sang, and Logan sat next to him. As they finished the first act and took a break Logan nudged him and motioned towards Roman.

 

Everyone had dispersed to go either to the bathroom or drink water, except for Roman. The sophomore stood in the middle of the stage, looking down at his shoes and taking deep breaths. Like Virgil did before his anxiety attacks. That was what had Patton wondering if they had done the right thing. Paton was barely holding it together for the show, which was exactly two weeks away, and if he couldn’t handle the stress of the show who was he to say that he would be able to handle the stress of taking care of his brother? Patton was stressed. His muscles hurt, his joints felt stiff, and for the last few days he has had a headache brewing in his temples. Ignoring them, Patton made his way towards Roman and placed a hand on the guy’s shoulder.

 

“Ah,” Roman gasped before giving him a nervous chuckle, “Apologies, you startled me.”

 

“Sorry… are you okay?”

 

“It was just a surpri–”

 

“I’m not talking about that,” Patton gave him a reassuring smile that did  _ not _ help his headache at all. He did his best to keep the grimace off his face and it must’ve worked because Roman didn’t mention it, “you seem distracted.”

 

“Me? No. I’m fine. A hundred percent focused,” Roman scoffed but averted his eyes, looking everywhere but at Patton, “we only have two weeks, we can’t afford distractions! This must be  _ per-fect _ !” 

 

Patton sighed and patted Roman’s shoulder before giving him another little smile, “I don’t believe you but okay.”

 

Roman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms like a petulant child. There was even a hint of a pout on his face as his lower lips stuck out a bit more than usual. Roman gave him a nod and walked towards the rest of the cast, grabbing his bottle of water and taking a sip. Patton turned to look at Logan who shrugged. He sighed and climbed down the steps again, plopping down next to Logan. “Perhaps we’ll get more out of him once the cast is gone.”

 

“Hopefully,” Patton gave him the same reassuring smile he gave to Roman and turned to look at Virgil. He was talking to Remy, who was in charge of making the costumes ––or at least finding the needed clothes in the correct size. Remy was leaning against the piano, one hand making exaggerated movements much like Roman’s or Patton’s, and the other one holding an iced coffee. Sometimes Patton worried about Remy’s health, because all he ever saw the younger one drink or eat was coffee. Or pizza when they went out together. 

 

“May I ask you something?”

 

Patton turned his head towards Logan but didn’t take his eyes away from his brother for another couple of seconds, “yeah?”

 

“What happened between you and Virgil?” Patton frowned. Nothing had happened, right? After Patton came clean about every secret he had kept, the two had become closer than ever. Especially now that they had the custody-divorce thing weighing on their shoulders. Maybe that was what Logan meant. “A few weeks back, all you two did was snap at each other, and suddenly… you didn’t anymore.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Oh?”

 

“Well, we talked,” Patton glanced back at his brother briefly, “I told him about what happened last year, and about sophomore year…” He nodded. It hadn’t been the best conversation; the more the two talked about Patton’s secrets, the more he realized how horribly wrong he had been from keeping them in the first place. He always told Virgil to make friends, that one cannot go through life keeping everything to oneself, yet there he was doing the exact opposite with his brother.

 

“How did that go?”

 

Patton narrowed his eyes at Logan with an amused smirk, “I thought you said you didn’t like gossip.” Logan scoffed and turned towards the stage but didn’t give more of an answer. Patton chuckled as he continued talking, “it went well. We stopped fighting and… snapping.”

 

“That’s… good.”

 

“Yeah,” Patton laughing at Logan’s unsure tone, “it is.” He turned to look at the stage as well and noticed most of the cast making their way back to their spots. Patton went to stand up and start act two when the door at the back of the auditorium slammed open; everyone turned to watch Emile sliding into a stop next to Patton and Logan. 

 

“I got–– I–– posters and––” Patton laughed as he put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

 

“Breathe, Emile.”

 

Emile laughed breathlessly and nodded. “I should… go to the gym… more often…” he grinned as he leaned against one of the seats. Patton noticed the large papers his best friend was holding and pointed at them with an excited smile; he noticed Logan and Virgil walking up behind Emile and coming to stand next to Patton. 

 

“Are those–”

 

Emile nodded and handed them to Patton. The posters, designed by himself, looked even better than he had expected. It was a purple background with a hand-drawn star (as if done in seconds though it took him about half an hour) and the silhouette of the characters. “Whoa, who designed that? It looks amazing!” 

 

Patton smiled at his brother as a blush crept up his neck, “I did.”

 

Both Virgil and Logan had very different expressions. Virgil seemed proud, which was always good in Patton’s books, while Logan’s expression was harder to decipher. His eyes were wide, risen eyebrows, a small smile on his lips. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Emile spoke up with a childish grin as he quickly stood up and draped an arm around his shoulders, “ _ my _ best friend is super talented.”

 

“Em,” Patton nudged Emile’s side. He could feel his cheeks burn even hotter. Patton then turned to look at Virgil and asked for him to get Roman. The actor was quick to jump down from the stage and hurry towards them. “Hey, Ro. The posters came in!” 

 

Roman looked at them, inspecting everything to the smallest detail, “who drew this?” Emile, Logan, and Virgil pointed at Patton in unison. Roman nodded, impressed, as he handed back the poster he was looking at. “I am impressed.”

 

“Thank you. Now, we need to hang this up,” he quickly changed the topic, “I say a couple in the school, the rest out?”

 

“Out where?”

 

“Everywhere,” Patton smiled brightly, “we need  _ everyone _ to see these.” He had been thinking on giving them to all the nearby stores, and those around  _ Le Règ _ because if anyone was going to go to the show, it’d be people who saw the poster. Whyte wasn’t big enough, or artsy enough, for them to sell as many tickets as they needed.

 

“I can help, if you want me to…” 

 

“You are a lifesaver Emile,” Patton grinned as he bounced on his step.

 

“I could, perhaps, be of assistance,” Logan offered and everyone turned to look at him, “there is only so much a person like me can take of make-believe.”

 

“It’s called theater, Microsoft.” Roman scoffed in good manner. Logan, who by then had learned how Roman worked, simply rolled his eyes. 

 

“Tomato, solanum lycopersicum.” Patton blinked up at Logan in confusion. Logan must’ve noticed that everyone was confused because he simply shook his head and extended a hand towards Emile. “Just give me the posters.”

 

Emile chuckled and handed him half of the posters he was holding. Patton chuckled as he, Virgil, and Roman made their ways back towards the stage. He sneaked a kiss on Logan’s cheek, noticing immediately how the junior looked down at his feet with bright red cheeks as he made his way out of the auditorium with posters in his hands. “Oh,” Emile stopped and ran back towards them, “Virge! Second act starts at fifty-six.” He handed Virgil a USB and winked at him before running back to meet with Logan who waited by the door. 

 

Patton turned to Virgil and noticed the excited grinned and giddiness in his brother immediately. Roman must’ve been equally interested in the USB because he was trying his best to snatch the USB from Virgil’s hands, who was skillfully keeping it away. 

 

“Wanna listen to the music?” Virgil offered to Patton who nodded enthusiastically. 

 

“I do too!” Roman whined.

 

“You have to re-teach team one the dance for the first song,” Patton watched Roman glare at Virgil for a few seconds before scoffing and turning around to head towards the people who needed help. Virgil led Patton to the sound booth and connected the USB to the computer in there. The sound booth was above the seats, in the wall overseeing everything. It was also from where they did the lights for the show. “Okay, let’s see… minute fifty-six…” Virgil sped through the song, startling the cast when the speakers suddenly blared the music in fast forward. 

 

Patton laughed and pressed a button for the mic, “sorry!”

 

Roman flipped them off, gaining more laughs from the cast. Virgil finally paused at minute fifty-six and let it play normally. The music was so perfect he could almost imagine a band playing in the orchestra pit between the stage and the seats. “That sounds great! Good job, Virge!”

 

Virgil smirked at him, “thank you, but it was mostly Emile who did the mastering of it.”

 

“You composed and recorded, I’m pretty sure you should be congratulated too,” Patton teased as he gave him a light sideways hug. They let the music running, mainly to see if it was all well recorded, and Patton watched the cast practice the first song again. He could see Remy sitting in the piano stool, coffee in hand, and sassing someone that was dancing. He could see Missy twirling around, mocking Roman as she stayed behind him, and the cast barely holding it together. “Is everything okay with Roman?”

 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Virgil questioned back.

 

“Tried,” Patton chuckled, “lied to me.” 

 

After a few seconds of no answer, Patton turned to look at his brother who had his mouth open, on the verge of saying something but he chose not to. Virgil chuckled and shook his head, “Helena lost her main job this morning,” Virgil explained as he crossed his arms, “he’s stressed. Probs gonna have to take more shifts and… well, he wants the best for T.H.O.M.A.S. so, I dunno.” 

 

“Poor guy,” Patton pouted as he continued watching the practice for a few more minutes in silence. He wished he’d never have to put Virgil through that. It was another of his fears now that they were about to finalize the custody exchange, what if they couldn’t do it? What if it became to much to either of them? Patton had never expected to go live on his own before going to college. He had planned on dorms, sure, but dorms and apartments are very different living styles.

 

“I’m gonna head back down,” Patton motioned with his head before making his way to the door, “you coming?” 

 

“Yeah,” Virgil grabbed the USB and walked down to the stage side by side with Patton. 

 

They called the cast and started act two. The cast, after weeks upon weeks of practicing had mastered most dances and most songs. They still had troubles with the first choreography, the  _ Grass Is Greener O’er There _ choreography, and the last song that was about eight minutes long and… well, grand. It was by far one of the most complex that involved all cast. Patton had asked if there was a way of making it easier but Roman had given him a ten minute speech about how the last song had to be grand so people would leave the theater in awe. Truth be told, Patton only heard part of it, getting lost in some of the words his friend used. 

 

They had three songs left when a phone rang. Everyone ignored it, but then it rang again, and again, and again. By the fifth time, Patton sighed and raised a hand, stopping everyone. Virgil paused the music ––after getting the USB, he decided it was for everyone’s interest that they should practice with the real music–– and looked at Patton expectantly. 

 

“Who’s phone is that?” The cast quickly scurried to check their phones, most shaking their heads when they realized it wasn’t theirs. Patton immediately noticed Roman’s frozen figure. “Ro?”

 

“Sorry, it’s my mom, I––”

 

Patton glanced at Virgil as the younger one spoke, “Helena knows we’re in rehearsal. Answer it.”

 

Roman nodded and walked closed to Patton. He probably didn’t mind Patton nor Virgil listening to the conversation as much as he minded the rest of the cast. Roman answered the sixth call. “ _ Hola Mam––  _ whoa, calm down. What happ–” 

 

A soft gasp left Roman’s lips. By then everyone was in silence, trying to catch a bit of the conversation that suddenly seemed to be much more serious than everyone expected. Roman almost dropped his phone as he ran a hand over his mouth and Patton immediately noticed how exactly bad was the situation. Roman wasn’t one to show fear, they had only seen it once before, but Patton was an older brother. He immediately noticed his shaky hands. He walked closer to Roman and pressed a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it slightly and as reassuring as he could. Roman met his eyes, filled with tears as he listened to his mother talk.

 

Patton caught a couple of the words but didn’t understand any. He didn’t know Spanish. 

 

“ _ Mamá. No, ya voy para alla, no–– me da lo mismo! _ ” Roman’s distraught was enough to bring Virgil towards them. “See ya.” He hung up and turned to look at the brothers, his breath quickening. “It’s–uh, heh…”

 

“Princey?” 

 

“Sandra got… the car was speeding, didn’t see her, and…” Patton’s eyes widened as he glanced up at Virgil. His brother’s face was also pale ––paler than his usual concealer. “She’s in the ER and…”

 

Patton hadn’t registered Logan walking closer until he spoke up, “Go. We can take care of the rehearsal.”

 

“But––”

 

Logan motioned for him to go, “she’s your sister, Roman. She’s more important than some play.” Roman glanced between the three before nodding and jogging towards his backpack. He came short from sprinting towards the exit, struggling to keep his backpack from sliding down his shoulder. 

 

Patton quickly noticed Virgil’s far away gaze. “Oh my god…” his brother whispered, “I told Sandra to, to come surprise Roman. I knew he was stressed, so did Sandra, so I told her that maybe she could come here. Watch what Roman had done with T.H.O.M.A.S… I didn’t– I didn’t think that  _ this _ would happen… I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have called her but I did–”

 

“Virgil, you had no way of knowing,” Logan tried to reason with him.

 

“She’s not my sister, I shouldn’t have… I…” Patton noticed his brother’s breathing quickly become more erratic. His trembling hand came to grip his hair, pulling it slightly. “What if she… oh my god, it’d be my fault. I kille–”

 

“You didn’t kill anyone,” Logan whispered harshly. Virgil turned to look at him, wide eyes. 

 

“Yet, but if she die–”

 

“She won’t.”

 

“You don’t kno– I–”

 

This time, Patton beat Logan to talk. He whispered as harshly as Logan had done before, though it became borderline threatening. “Enough, Logan, you’re making it worse.”

 

“At least I’m doing something,” Logan snapped to look at him.

 

“He doesn’t need that. Logan I’m his brother, I know better.”

 

“Then do something,  _ big brother _ .” Something snapped in Patton. He ignored the crowd they had, or how Virgil was looking between the two as he tried to calm down yet failed miserably. 

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Patton glared at Logan, his voice louder than intended. Now the crowd was listening for sure. Logan turned to look at him, arms crossed, a similar glare on his face. Patton was as angry, as angry as he had been when he confronted his parents. “What is that supposed to mean, Oxford?”

 

“You’re just standing there, doing nothing while your oh-so-adored brother is hyperventilating himself into a panic attack.” Patton’s jaw dropped as he scoffed. Oh, he was mad now. He wouldn’t have been as mad had it not been for the headache that was now pulsating. “I’m just doing something!”

 

“Why do you always have to do something?!”

 

“Patton!” Virgil yelled and his words registered on his brain. His anger quickly dissipated, his blood running cold. He didn’t fail to notice how everything fell quiet, how Logan physically stumbled, and how Logan’s shoulders sagged, disconcerted, for a second before his face hardened into the emotionless façade he used to have at the beginning of the year.

 

“I guess I’m of no more use,” Logan’s voice was levelled and for some reason that was worse than if he had yelled, “hope your show does well.” 

 

Without another word Logan walked between the brothers and past them. Patton reached out to grab Logan’s wrist, to apologize, but Logan simply snatched it away without a second glance. He watched him walk away. Logan didn’t look back.

 

“What the fuck, Patt?” Virgil was no longer hyperventilating. He was mad. As mad as he was when their parents announced their divorce, but this time Patton couldn’t bring himself to care. “He got T.H.O.M.A.S. for  _ you _ , without him, we cannot do this. We have two – _ two– _ weeks, Patt. We can’t afford this and you just––” Virgil breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself down, but he had just become background noise to Patton.

 

Patton was still looking at the door where Logan had walked through. It felt like his heart was slowing down, like his blood had suddenly decided to stop pumping through his veins. He walked to the piano stool and sat down, disoriented and his headache worse than ever. The floor swayed under him. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling it slightly. Patton knew, God… he  _ knew _ how Logan felt. They had talked about it in one of their dates, for an hour. Logan, who was so insecure of never doing enough for others, had been trying to help ––had helped in more ways than one, and Patton had yelled at him.  _ Yelled _ . The very thing he hated the most after silence. God. Logan had made his life good again, made his life make sense again, and all Patton did was dismiss him. 

 

He barely registered how Virgil took a deep breath and addressed the whispering crowd. “Alright, go home. I’ll send an email tonight about tomorrow’s rehearsal. I’ll––I’ll figure it out.” 

 

“You sure?”

 

“I– I have to.”


	20. Chapter 20

Stress and anxiety did not go together, that much had Virgil learned in the last seven days. Roman, Logan, and Patton had gone MIA leaving Virgil to handle everything on his own. He went from being the wild card, the one who knew a bit of everyone’s job, to suddenly organizing it on his own. They had to move their practices into the  _ Le Règ _ because the cast needed to learn how to move around the new and much bigger stage; which meant that he had to talk to the manager of the theater, lead the cast, lead the crew, and everything in between. 

 

He could feel the effect of constantly being on the borderline of an attack as a tension in his shoulders and back of the head as well as the not-quite-asleep-not-quite-awake nights he had been having since everything went to hell. It was moments like these, where he was pacing up and down the lobby with his phone stuck to his ear, that he wished he could beat some sense into at least one of them. 

 

Virgil groaned as the phone call went to a voicemail, yet again.  _ Hey, it’s Roman!  _ _ Feel free to leave a message, but I probably won’t hear it… so call again later if you want.  _

 

“I know you have your phone on you, you prick. Can you pick up?” he grumbled before ending the call. That marked as the seventeenth voicemail he left. Virgil had tried calling the first three days that Roman didn’t show up to rehearsal but he didn’t start leaving voicemails until three days ago. He looked around, debating on whether or not should he call again; he noticed the two posters, those drawn by his brother, hanging in the lobby. They were almost as big as he was. 

 

The door swung open and Virgil turned to look at the newcomer. They were about to start rehearsals in ten minutes, and the cast was still trickling in. “Ah, Roman hasn’t shown up… again.”

 

“No, Dee. He didn’t.” Virgil grumbled. Dee smirked and scoffed as he made his way to the stage. “And, for the last time, you use the cast door. In the back.”

 

“Uh-huh.” 

 

Dee was probably part of the tension in Virgil’s shoulder. He was, in lack of a better word, an ass. Apparently, he and Roman were friends ––not hang-outside-of-school friends but friends nonetheless. Virgil couldn’t decipher if Dee kept asking about Roman because he was actually worried or if he just liked annoying Virgil. 

 

Virgil tried calling again. Directly to voicemail. Roman had turned his phone off. 

 

He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He couldn’t waste more time trying to call Roman, maybe he would try during the break, but at the moment he had to start rehearsal. They were exactly seven days away from the opening night and currently found themselves without a lead actor, a director, or a spokesperson. If he even managed to get the cast and crew ready for the opening night, they still didn’t have a Thomas or someone to speak to the jury and–––– a coffee appeared over his shoulder, startling him until he noticed the black nail polish in the person’s hand. 

 

“You look like you need it.” Remy smirked smugly as Virgil took it from his hand, “bitterness from hell in a cup.”

 

Virgil sighed deeply and took a sip, enjoying the bitterness that tingled his tongue. Remy chuckled and both walked towards the first row of seats. Remy wasn’t one to bring him ‘bitterness from hell’ without a reason; if he did bring Virgil coffee, it was because asked him for it. “What happened?”

 

“Costumes.”

 

“Great,” Virgil groaned as he opened his backpack with one hand and fished out the red binder, “what now?”

 

Remy shrugged and scratched his hairline with his knuckles. Nervous tick. “Talyn’s hair? Missy’s allergic to the wig. Thomas’ tee? Nowhere to be found. Leo’s clothes? Can’t find  _ any _ dark clothes that don’t look weird on Nannie, and I’d ask for yours, but Nannie’s like twice your height. This favor of yours is gonna make me go gray, dude.”

 

Virgil sighed and rubbed his face. He had been doing a lot of sighing that day. The coffee was quickly waking up his tired body but his brain had yet to catch up. “Okay, uh,” what could he do. Virgil was the composer, not the stylist or writer. He didn’t know what Roman wanted or what he’d do if he was there. Should he leave Missy with her natural hair? Maybe they could change Thomas t-shirt, but the star was on the poster, they needed the star. Where was Roman when needed, or even Logan! Logan would’ve made a choice without giving it much thought. “What happened to Thomas shirt?”

 

“I dunno,” Remy sipped his coffee, “it just disappeared a week ago.”

 

“And now you tell me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Virgil mumbled a curse under his breath, “okay,” he turned to the cast and cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice, “has anyone seen a red shirt with a yellow star?” There were a couple of negative whispering before one of the crew dashed towards them waving said shirt. 

 

“Found it a while ago and I’ve been asking around who’s is it.” The girl grinned and handed it to them. Virgil nodded and she ran back to where she was chatting. Virgil turned and handed Remy the shirt, “there you go. For Missy, try hairspray if she’ll let you and if she doesn’t I’ll talk to her. For Leo just, make it simple, it doesn’t have to be super stylish. He’s a college student, probably doesn’t have time to cook, much less dress nicely.”

 

Remy nodded as he tapped some notes in his phone. “Won’t Roman throw a fit?”

 

“Probably, but he’s not here.” Virgil sipped at his coffee again and turned to look at Nannie as the guy hurried towards them. Nannie was a freshman like Virgil; brown haired and eyes but  _ much _ taller than Virgil. 

 

“Hmm, funny,” Virgil raised his eyebrow at his best friend as he sipped his black coffee again, “always knew you’d be a good leader.” Remy patted his shoulder and climbed into the stage, nearing Missy to talk about –probably– the hairspray thing. Virgil turned to look at Nannie, motioning for him to talk. 

 

“Should we start?” 

 

“Yeah,” Virgil chugged the rest of his coffee and set the empty backpack on the floor next to his backpack, “we should.” He flipped through the pages of the binder. They were all heavily marked in Roman’s nonsensical scribbles. Had Virgil not been there through the writing process, he wouldn’t have been able to read the scribbles. There were also his own scribbles here and there. 

 

Nannie jogged back to the stage and Virgil quickly called everyone’s attention. “We’re gonna do act one first, then fifteen minutes, then act two. Remember, tomorrow is our first dressed-rehearsal! You  _ cannot _ miss it! You  _ cannot _ miss Wednesday either because we’re practicing with the props too.”

 

“Is Roman gonna be here?” someone in the back asked.

 

“No, I–I don’t think so,” the tone on his voice was curt. No a single other comment about Roman was made again. Virgil motioned the sound technician who nodded at the ready. “Okay, places… one, two, three!” 

 

The first act ran smoothly, better than any other day before. There were also only a few of actors left still holding the scripts and they didn’t look at them often. Second act still needed a little of work, but it wasn’t anything that might ruin their chances in the competitions… such as not having a lead actor. He had called Roman again during the break but didn’t get any answer again. During the first act, Remy had gone out and didn’t come back until well into the second act, swinging a plastic bag in his hand.  

 

The second act came into a close and they all cheered in unison before turning to Virgil. He stated to take a break before they started working on the smaller things. Remy showed him the orange hairspray they needed for Missy, wiggling it slightly. “Let’s hope it works.” Remy chuckled along with a very tired Virgil. He let Remy take Missy to the back stage’s bathroom and try their best to make it look good. 

 

Nannie was slipping off his thin lilac cardigan as he jogged up to Virgil, leaving him in his black t-shirt. “Hey, we should go over  _ Break, Break, Break _ again with dance team two.” Virgil turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. “They keep falling behind after the second verse.”   
  
“You’re a lifesaver, dude.”    
  
Nannie smirked and shrugged, “I know.” He fiddled with the sweater on his hands as he surveyed the cast as they drank water and chatted. 

 

He bumped his shoulder against Nannie’s, making him chuckle, “you okay?”   
  
“About to murder my so-called friends,” Virgil grumbled, “seven days left and our lead actor is MIA along with our director and our leader. So, I’m as well as I can.”   
  
Nannie patted his shoulder softly before looking down at Virgil, “I’ll herd the sheep, you find the song.”   
  
“Lifesaver, my dude, lifesaver.” The two parted ways as Virgil made his way towards the sound technician. He glanced at his phone, expecting a single message from any of his friends though he wasn’t surprised when the screen came up blank. He watched the sound technician look for the song and once Nannie gave him the thumbs up, he motioned for the technician to press play. Nannie had become the self-selected head of the choreography the second day Roman failed to show. It was something they needed desperately and, well, people listened to Nannie. He had the silkiest voice Virgil had ever heard from a highschool student; lulling and hypnotizing. Under other circumstances, Virgil might have had a crush on him. But there were no other circumstances. 

 

After another hour of practicing, and mindlessly looking at his phone, Virgil sent everyone home. They were getting better every day, and there was no good use if they were too exhausted by the opening night. 

 

“So…” Virgil whipped his head around, heart racing, before noticing it was just Pranks walking towards him as he gave Virgil a friendly wave. There was a black beaded bracelet on his wrist. “If Roman doesn’t come back, what happens then?”  
  
“He’ll come back.”  
  
Pranks clicked his tongue and glanced away, “Alright, but, say he doesn’t in time… We can’t cancel the show…” Virgil didn’t answer him as he continued flipping through the pages of the binder. He was making Pranks shuffle nervously next him, “can we?”  
  
“No.” Virgil shook his head and glanced at Pranks briefly.  Roman was coming back, he had to. Virgil refused to believe that the guy spent almost a year working on the biggest project of his life only to simply abandon it. That didn’t sound like Roman. Didn’t sound like prideful, creative, annoyingly-persistent, Roman. “We’re not canceling, even if I have to play Thomas.”  
  
“Can you act?”  
  
“Oh, no. Absolutely not,” Virgil snorted as he snapped the binder closed. Nannie was still in the stage with a girl, congratulating her and giving her a high five.   
  
Pranks shook his head in amusement, “I guess I’ll pray for Roman to come back.” 

 

Virgil nodded, “Might be a good idea.” 

 

They both turned to look at the stage as Remy and Missy walked in chatting loudly. Missy’s hair was bright orange now, instead of jet-black, and the best part was that it looked natural. Remy grinned and showed his masterpiece as Missy did silly poses. Virgil chuckled and clapped, “that’s good.”

 

“Just good?” Remy scoffed, “girl, she’s fabulous!” 

 

“And look!” Missy pressed both her hands against the orange hair and then showed it to them, “absolutely clean.” There wasn’t a speck of paint on her hands or forehead. This was good, maybe not exactly cheaper than the original idea but in the face of failure, this was the best. 

 

Virgil looked around the small group that was left. Nannie, Remy, Missy, and Pranks. Everyone else had gone home, and good thing too. These were his friends, the ones he could trust… maybe not as much as the other three, but they were still good. They stuck with him, stepped up to help him, even if he didn’t ask for their help. 

 

“I’mma go talk to Roman, today.” He decided outloud and the soft chatter immediately stopped. He glanced up at them and gave them a soft smile, “maybe should’ve done that since the start, hmm?”

 

Remy switched spots with Missy and draped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders, pulling him close into a sideways hug. “Yes, you dingus.”

 

Virgil laughed and ran a hand through his hair. Roman was his friend, a friend who was going through a crisis, and with the fight between the other two Virgil had ignored it and decided to be angry at Roman. The more he thought it, the more he realized how much of a bad friend he was. Roman had been there when Virgil broke down in tears, and when Virgil needed to rant about the guardianship-divorce thing, and when they were so caffeinated that they didn’t notice that the sun had risen during one of their late night writing sessions. 

 

“So, you’ll have to get out so I can lock up.”

 

“Gee, you could’ve asked nicely,” Nannie chuckled as each one went to grab their backpacks and walked towards the Cast Only door. Missy and Pranks were at the front, gushing about the orange hair and how cool it was that it didn’t stain anything (also hoping that she could wash it off). Nannie and Remy were talking about options for Leo’s costume, to which Nannie shrugged and told him that he usually wore dark clothes and that he could find something. Virgil locked up and grabbed his bike, putting his backpack in the basket and started pedaling towards Roman’s apartment. 

 

The sun was starting to set by the time he got there. He locked his bike to the bike stand with a lock and headed up to the third floor.

 

He was sweating when he knocked, and it was not because of the bike ride. What if Roman sent him to hell? What if this was really it and Roman didn’t come back to T.H.O.M.A.S.? Virgil’s chest was twisting on itself and compressing. The idea of losing his friends, his little dysfunctional family, hurt more than the idea of losing his birth family. And to think Virgil hated Roman when everything started. 

 

The door swung open and Virgil had to look down to meet with Margarita’s gaze. Her eyes widened and brightened immediately before she threw herself to hug Virgil’s legs. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” 

 

Virgil couldn’t help but to chuckle. He patted Margarita’s untamed curls before she let go and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the apartment. He immediately noticed Eliza sitting on the couch, pen in hand, as she drew something in Sandra’s right arm’s cast. Virgil also noticed that Sandra, other than the cast in her right arm, her left leg, and a small band-aid on her cheekbone, she seemed unscathed. But he could also see the closed wheelchair behind the dining table. 

 

“Look who’s here!” Margarita war-cried. The two other sisters turned to look at him and beamed as well. He had gotten pretty close to them between dinners and breakfasts that he had during the writing sessions. Sometimes he’d even go with Roman to the park to work on the show while the three girls wasted their energy away.

 

“Virge!” Sandra grinned and Virgil walked to her, patting her head softly as a hello.

 

“Heard you had an accident?”

 

Sandra nodded and lifted her arm for him to see, only to win a whine from Eliza who kept drawing in it. She seemed to be drawing Rapunzel’s tower… or her best rendition of it. “Didn’t even feel it. Want to sign it?”

 

“Maybe later, I really gotta talk to Princey.” Virgil stuffed his shaky hands into his pockets as he glanced to Roman’s open door. He looked back down at Sandra and Eliza ––and Margarita who seemed to be trying to climb his legs without much success.

 

He heard an amused hum and snapped to look at Helena leaning against the doorframe, “Hello, Helena.”

 

“ _ Mijo _ ,” she gave him a motherly smile before nodding her head towards Roman’s open door, “y’know where he is.” Virgil nodded and tapped Margarita’s head, successfully telling her to get off his leg, and made his way to Roman’s room. He closed the door behind him and climbed out the window into the fire escape. It wasn’t like the girls didn’t know that Roman went to the roof way too often, but he still didn’t want them doing the same.

 

The rusty ladder still made his stomach knot up but not as much as the first day. The first time Roman took him to the roof hadn’t started with a good conversation, and Virgil hoped with all of his anxious heart, that the last conversation in that roof wasn’t bad. He noticed immediately how Roman was sitting on the same ledge that Virgil avoided. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Roman didn’t turn around to look at Virgil; he was watching the sun set over the city skyline. 

 

“I dunno, you tell me,” Virgil scoffed, “our writer and lead actor disappeared when we have only seven days left.” He walked closer but stopped a few steps away. No matter how much he wanted to shake Roman awake from whatever daze he was in, the fact that he was in the  ledge made him freeze in his spot. 

 

“I’m not doing the show, V.” 

 

“Did you not hear the ‘only seven days left’ part?” 

 

“I heard you,” Roman gave him a disheartened thumbs up, still not looking at him. There was no bite to his tone, no emotion, which only worried Virgil more. He frowned and crossed his arms. Why was he so hard to talk suddenly? It was like September all over again, except that now there bigger stakes than there had been back then. Both personal and T.H.O.M.A.S.-wise.

 

“What’s wrong with you?”

 

“With me?” Roman turned to look at him over his shoulder; Virgil immediately noticed how shiny Roman’s eyes were. Definitely not from looking at the sun. They were tinted in a fading red, from previous crying. “I’m the worst brother out there! Are you kidding me! When Patton was weird, you worried and helped. My sister got hurt and––”

 

“There was literally nothing you could’ve done to stop Sandra getting from hurt.”

 

“Yeah, I could’ve walked her home!” Roman argued, his breathing quickening and turning to face Virgil completely, “but instead I was being selfish and rehearsing for a play.”

 

Virgil blinked at him. Of course Roman was being serious, but Virgil still couldn’t believe the things that were pouring out of his friend’s mouth. “Ro, she was on her way to Whyte because she wanted to see T.H.O.M.A.S!” 

 

“Even worse then!” 

 

Virgil’s patience was running thin by then. It was Virgil’s job to blame himself for everything, so he couldn’t exactly comfort him without getting impatient. “No, it’s no–– can you get down from there. Please?”

 

“No. Leave me alone, okay? I’m not going back.”

 

Virgil growled, “Minett, step away from the ledge or I’ll push you down myself.” Roman glared at him and scoffed but hopped down. He stood a few feet away from Virgil, “Thank you.”

 

“Now will you leave?”

 

“No.” Roman groaned and made a motion as if he was choking Virgil from far. It was a thing Roman did often when frustrated. He went to speak but Virgil stopped him, “No, my turn. So shut it.”

 

Roman thankfully stayed quiet as he crossed his arms and continued to glare at Virgil. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose to calm himself down. “If you don’t want to go back, fine. We can find someone else to play Thomas. Maybe Patt, who knows. But that doesn’t mean we’re not your friends, Minett. T.H.O.M.A.S. or no T.H.O.M.A.S., we’re still with you. It’s what friends do.”

 

Virgil could feel his cheeks burn up. It was the most feelings-y he had ever been to someone (without counting the breakdown he had a couple of weeks ago) and it wasn’t helping that Roman was staring at him in silence. Roman’s shoulders had relaxed, which was a good sign, as Virgil kept playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. He looked down at his feet and as he went to look back up, he had an armful of Roman holding him tightly.

 

He patted Roman’s back awkwardly but didn’t make any motion to move away until Roman did it himself. As Roman leaned back, he pressed both hands on Virgil’s shoulders, and grinned his prince-like grin. “We have a show to save!” 

 

Virgil rolled his eyes with faux annoyance but couldn’t fight the smirk that was creeping up his lips, “aaand we’re back to the dramatic antics.”

 

“What came over you? You’ve never been so… feels-y.”

 

“I know,” he faked a shudder, “it was disgusting.”

 

The two headed towards the rusted fire escape but before either could climb down, Roman bumped their shoulders together, “Thank you… I really needed to hear that.”

 

Virgil smirked at him and motioned him to climb down first, “just don’t tell anyone, I got a reputation to maintain.” Roman laughed loudly but didn’t answer otherwise, “C’mon, dude, move faster. I promised the better Minett that I’d sign her cast.”

 

Roman shook his head amused, “Sure thing, Storm and Cloud.”


	21. Chapter 21

Roman went through the window first and offered Virgil a hand to help him through it, knowing that Virgil was prone on tripping with something. Virgil scoffed and slapped his hand away, only to almost trip a few seconds after and having to use Roman’s arm to stabilize himself. “Not a word,” he grumbled and squeezed past the smug-looking Roman. He swung the door open and noticed Helena humming a Spanish song as she moved around the kitchen. 

 

“Hey, Ro, Virgil was looking for you,” Eliza mentioned without lifting her head from the paper in which she was doodling.

 

“Thank you,” Roman chuckled, “I’ll talk to him.”

 

Sandra bookmarked her book and turned to look at Virgil, “Are you gonna sign it now?” Virgil chuckled and sat next to her, grabbing a purple sharpie from Eliza’s coloring box and Sandra motioned to her left leg’s cast for him to sign. Virgil started to write his name when Sandra spoke again, “You can draw if you want… you too Roman.”

 

“I won’t say no to signing it again,” Roman laughed and sat to her other side, grabbing a red sharpie before drawing in her arm’s cast, next to Eliza’s tower and under Margarita’s scribbled name. Virgil started to draw a little cloud next to his name, decorating the inside of it with little dots and lines, only stopping rub his temples every so often. Just because Roman was back on board with the show, it didn’t mean that Patton and Logan were too. The headache was only worsening, maybe from his anxiety during the conversation with Roman, but at least he had Roman’s help now. “Are you okay?” Roman asked without lifting his gaze from the drawing he was doing. 

 

“Well, three of our four-people-team ditched me, so,” Virgil scoffed and smiled sarcastically up at him, “I’m just dandy.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“You’re okay,” Virgil waved him off as he started to doodle music notes, shaping them into a lightning bolt. 

 

“What happened with the other two?”

 

Virgil hummed and glanced up, resting his drawing hand on his knee, “after you… ran off,” he cleared his throat and went back to doodling the music notes, “I had a, uh, panic attack or somethin–”

 

Roman looked up at him, “because I left?”

 

“Uh, among other things.” Virgil cleared his throat again and squinted his eyes to draw one of the music notes as small as he could for it to be the tip of the lightning bolt. He could feel Sandra being interested in their conversation, unlike Eliza who was ignoring them, but he couldn’t blame her being that they were literally talking over her. “Logan and Patton tried to help me, and then they fought and… well, Patton hasn’t left his room ––literally, he only leaves at three a.m. to get food–– and Logan has been ignoring my calls.”

 

“Sorry about that, too,” Roman chuckled embarrassed but then frowned. Virgil switched to a black sharpie and continued drawing. “Did you talk to Mare?”

 

Virgil lifted his head and just stared at Roman. Of course he had. Her answer had been seventy-five percent pure cussing, and it was terrifying. Mare was terrifying. “No, I didn’t talk to his best friend, Roman,” he answered sarcastically before shaking his head, “she sent me to hell.”

 

“I mean, for  _ Logan _ to react like that…” Roman whistled softly, “must’ve been bad.”

 

“Patton yelled at Logan  _ why you always doing something _ , or something along the lines,” Virgil explained. He noticed the way Roman’s hand froze before he finally met with Virgil’s eyes. He noticed Sandra looked between the two with a frown. 

 

“What’s wrong with that?”

 

Roman turned his head to Sandra but kept his eyes on Virgil. “Logan has… issues with never being enough so…” That was an understatement. It took them a couple of months, and some awkward conversations, for them to realize that the reason why Logan was always studying or doing something important came from his parents always asking too much of him. It was because of the ingrained belief that he had to be the best of the best, and sometimes he didn’t even notice. Those were the  conversations that led to Logan realizing how bad his parents were, too. Patton had a heavier weight in that realization, since they had spent more time together, than the others.

 

“Oh.” Sandra hummed, “Patton sounds like a bully.”

 

Virgil chuckled and shook his head, “He’s usually very nice, and it was wrong of him to yell at Logan, but… well, Patton hasn’t been having the easiest time this year.”

 

Sandra nodded softly, grasping his words before she shrugged and then looked at him, “Then he should apologize.”

 

Roman raised his eyebrows, almost amusedly, at Virgil. He finished his little storm cloud capped the sharpie, dropping it back in Eliza’s box. He stood up and grabbed his backpack he had left leaning against the back of the couch. “I’m gonna try and convince him to apologize,” Roman nodded as he looked up at Virgil. “Uh, dressed rehearsal tomorrow. Three to seven. Miss it, and I’ll drag you there.”

 

Roman laughed and nodded, “won’t miss it. I promise.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Virgil narrowed his eyes at him warningly. He wasn’t kidding about dragging him to the rehearsal. They just couldn’t afford not having a lead anymore, mainly because of the rest of the cast; they needed to practice with the lead around them. 

 

“Can I go see?”

 

Eliza’s head snapped up as she turned to look at the two teens, “go where? Can I go?”

 

“Where are you going? I want to go to!” Margarita suddenly ran out of her room where she had been doing who-knows-what. Roman laughed and shook his head. 

 

“There’s only seven days left, you can wait.” The three turned to look at Virgi with pouts and begging eyes which made him laugh. Those three girls were the coolest little girls he had ever met, and probably would ever meet. “No, no. Don’t give  _ him _ the puppy look.”

 

“Sorry girls,” Virgil shrugged as he snickered, “Princey said no.”

 

Margarita scoffed, “Boring!” She turned around and walked back into her room. Roman shook his head as Virgil continued snickering. The other two girls, in the other hand, continued to try and convince them. Key word being tried. 

 

Virgil got home almost an hour later. Unfortunately, Roman didn’t live exactly close but the streets were mostly empty and there was a cool breeze making his cheeks and nose freeze into a red tinge. He put his bike away and headed inside, unlocking the door with his keys, and then making a bee-line to his room to drop off his backpack. He didn’t even glance at the living room. 

 

Except for furniture ––like the couch and the dinning table–– everything was in cardboard boxes. Some marked with purple tape or green tape. Purple tape was for Daniel while green tape was for Margaret. The couple had bought the house before they even had Patton, and only a few years later they finished paying the mortgage, so they decided that instead of selling it they would simply leave it to the brothers. They had to take care of the rent, but otherwise it was theirs. Virgil knew _ extremely _ well that their situation was by far the weirdest; whose parents paid childcare  _ and _ gave a two-story house to the kids who just told them they didn’t want to live with them anymore? It felt like two roommates were simply moving away, not parents. 

 

But, hey, Virgil wasn’t complaining. It meant less stress for Patton and him.

 

Speaking of Patton, by the time Virgil got home, Patton was snoring softly. Maybe he could speak to him before school but the next day Virgil woke up late for school and the two had to rush to school to not get a tardy. Right after school he had rehearsals, which Patton had been skipping, and there wasn’t enough time to speak with Patton before them. 

 

He crossed the Cast Only door frustrated, only to crash against Roman. “Hey!”

 

“Princey,” Virgil saluted him and went to the sound booth to hand the music off. Roman followed him as he fidgeted with the jacket he was going to wear for Thomas. It wasn’t like the jackets he was used to wearing, so continued fidgeting with the elastic cuff of the sleeve. “Stop it, you’re gonna tear it.” He slapped Roman’s hand off the sleeve and narrowed his eyes warningly. 

 

“I see you missed me,” Roman chuckled, “good.”

 

Virgil shook his head and zipped his backpack open before handing the red binder to Roman. “I quit. I’ll stick to composing. You be director.”

 

Roman looked down at the binder before pressing his lips into a thin line, “Actually,” he pushed the binder back into Virgil’s hands, “until Patt comes back, you’re it. I can’t act and direct at the same time.”

 

“Yeah, you can.”

 

“Nope, can’t. Sorry,” Roman lifted his hands away so Virgil wasn’t able to push the binder into his hands again. Virgil hissed at Roman before hugging the binder closer to his chest. “How’d it go with Patton, by the way?”

 

“Oh, great,” Virgil hummed overly-cheery, “you know, he slept… then avoided me, then I had to come here.”

 

“So still no––”

 

“Virgil Sanders!” Both Virgil and Roman jumped on their spot before turning to look at Missy as she stomped her way to them. Pranks and Remy were no far behind, and for a second he wondered what was more worrying; the stomping girl or the fact that it must’ve been something bad if Remy had his sunglasses on top of his head and was looking at him worried, “I. Am. A. Brunette!” 

 

Virgil looked at her hair. Her usually jet-black hair was now a coppery color, almost like Roman’s but darker. “Did it not wash off?”

 

Remy shook his head, “Most of it did,” he ran his hand through Missy’s hair, showing him some of the spots were the spray didn’t wash off as they hoped. “I think it’s gonna take more than one wash… maybe even dye.”

 

“Shit, sorry, Missy,” Virgil cringed, almost expecting her to punch him. Instead Missy took a deep breath, ran her hands through her hair, and looked at him as calmly as she could muster.

 

“It’s fine, but if after the final show, it doesn’t wash away, you’re paying for the dye.”

 

Virgil nodded. Damn it. The spray had seemed like such a good idea the day before. Roman hummed confused, “What happened to the wig.”

 

“She’s allergic,” Remy explained. Roman nodded but didn’t make any other comment. Remy looked him up and down to which Virgil scoffed and bit his tongue to stop himself from saying  _ you have a boyfriend, look away _ . Remy had just barely started dating Emile, and was quite apprehensive of it, so Virgil decided against saying it for his own good. He wanted to be alive for opening night. “Good to see you back in your feet, Minett.”

 

Roman nodded with a charming smile, “sorry about that.”

 

Remy rolled his eyes before slipping his sunglasses down and smirking at him, “You’re fine.”

 

Missy huffed and looked at her brother and then at Remy, “C’mon, we have to fuck my hair up again.”

 

Virgil ran a hand over his mouth as he turned to look at Roman. Roman looked confused yet amused, a look Virgil had seen many times before. He shrugged and motioned Roman to follow him with a nod of his head. He was going to have Nannie catch Roman up with the dance routines and the little changes they had to make the last couple of days. As they walked towards Nannie, people stopped chatting to greet Virgil ( _ hey, Virge, how’s it going? _ ) and Roman ( _ Roman! Good to see you again! _ ). 

 

“You must be exhausted,” Roman mentioned off-hand after the tenth time it happened, “I know you’re not exactly extroverted.”

 

“I am, yeah… But I got to meet them so it’s not as bad…”

 

Virgil didn’t like talking with people he didn’t know or barely knew. That made him anxious, but when in the face of need, he had to step up and push it all back. Then, as the days went by, he started to really meet the people and be friends with them. Sure, he made his little Freshmen friend group with the twins and Nannie (and Remy the Sophomore) but it wasn’t as nerve-racking to talk to the rest as it used to be. As an introvert, yes, it was still exhausting, but at least he could have conversations flowing easily now that he knew them. 

 

“Who’s the black dude?” Roman whispered to him, “he’s kinda hot.”

 

“Nannie?” he nodded at the aforementioned guy and Roman paled, “you’ve been working together for… for months.”

 

“Ignore everything I just said.”

 

Virgil smirked and chuckled, “Nah.”

 

“Hey, Nannie ––whoa.” Nannie did not look like himself. His brown hair, which was usually messily tousled, was now slicked back and his usually light colored sweaters was replaced by a black hoodie similar to Virgil’s. If it wasn’t for the smile, which he always wore bright and wide, Virgil would’ve even considered the theory of Nannie having a twin. “Fine, I get it.” He grumbled at Roman who smirked equally smug as Virgil had done before. 

 

He couldn’t really blame Roman for not recognizing Nannie, especially since he had been facing away from them. “Ey, Roman! You’re back!” 

 

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

 

“I need you to show him what we’ve changed.”

 

Nannie frowned at Virgil, smile still present, “I thought we were about to start?”

 

“Missy’s getting her hair set up,” Virgil shrugged. He patted Roman in the back, turned around, and simply left. “Thanks Nannie!”

 

He could hear both guys chuckling. A kid, one of the extras, caught up with him panting. Apparently their sound technician was sick with the flu and wasn’t going to make it their last week of rehearsals. Virgil sighed heavily and started working in getting someone to replace him. Virgil could’ve done it, had it not been for the fact that he had a lot more things to worry about. Almost half an hour later, Emile walked in, gave Remy a short kiss, and asked Virgil for instructions. 

 

“Have you talked to Patton?” 

 

Virgil snapped his head to look at Emile. “You have?” 

 

“We were together when you called?” Emile shrugged, “What happened?”

 

“You don’t know?” Emile shook his head as he started fiddling with some of the knobs in the console, “He had a fight with Logan. Bad one. I thought he’d tell you, since you’re the only one he’s talking to anymore.”

 

“Nope.”

 

If Patton wasn’t telling Emile what had him so depressed, then he wasn’t telling anyone and that was even more worrying. Truth be told, they didn’t really need Patton for the show, Virgil had been doing his job and things were going kind of good. But Patton was the one who wanted T.H.O.M.A.S. in the first place, the one who talked to everyone and the one who had been promoting it. Also, he was part of T.H.O.M.A.S., Virgil couldn’t just kick him out of it. As much as Logan, Patton was their spokesperson.

 

Virgil left Emile to get used to the console and walked towards Roman. He had started to unconsciously wring his hoodie’s sleeves. He saw Nannie explaining the changes they did to  _ Connection Established _ ––song number ten–– to Roman and waited for them to be done. There hadn’t been a lot of changes while Roman was out, but he needed to learn them now. Both stopped and turned to look at him after a while, and his face must’ve looked as unsettled as he was, because they both neared him worriedly. 

 

“Patton hasn’t told  _ Emile _ about the fight,” he glanced down at his hands, “and, he tells Emile  _ everything _ . It’s just that he’s making me so nervous, and…” 

 

Roman brought him into a hug, the only difference from their hug from the previous day was that Virgil was tucking his face against Roman’s chest. He could feel Roman’s hand running through his hair and his tense shoulders immediately relaxed. Virgil couldn’t exactly bring himself to hate how easily he melted under Roman’s hand that was going through his hair, because embarrassing or not, it helped a lot. 

 

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Nannie said. Virgil looked at him with a frown. He couldn’t just abandon the rehearsal, no matter how much he wanted to talk to his brother.

 

“But–– it’s our first dressed rehearsal, I––”

 

“We can handle it,” Roman agreed with Nannie, “Patton’s kind of more important, you know? Go. Worst case scenario, I’ll call you.”

 

“Besides, after a week of doing this solo, you deserve a day off.”

 

Virgil pressed his lips into a line and nodded. He knew Patton wasn’t going to be expecting him so he wouldn’t be able to avoid him. Maybe it was the only time he’d have, given that the next day their last rehearsals would start and Patton had to be there. Logan too, but one problem at a time… truth be told, Virgil had no idea on how to fix things with Logan. He felt like it was his fault but at the same time not. 

 

Virgil left with a warning that if they didn’t call him, he’d kill them. It was obviously and empty threat, but they knew what it meant.

 

The ride home was extremely different to the ride he took the previous night. The streets were bustling with cars and pedestrians; instead of a gentle cold breeze, the May sun was starting to burn the back of his neck. When he got home, he noticed that there were no cars in the driveway. He opened the door and went to go upstairs when he saw Patton moving around the kitchen. Virgil closed the door behind him, dropped the backpack on the couch, and went to sit in the kitchen island. “Can we talk?”

 

Patton jumped in his spot, seemingly startled by Virgil. “Oh, V. Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Cookies, I…” Patton shook his head and let his words trail of. 

 

“Needed to think?”

 

Patton nodded as he slid a tray into the oven. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

“Logan.” Virgil saw his brother slow down as he grabbed the dirty bowls and turned to the sink to wash them. It was weird seeing his brother act so normally, as if nothing had happened, but at the same time he looked like he didn’t know what he was doing with his body. He was there with Virgil in that kitchen but at the same time he was somewhere else. “It’s been a week, you can’t avoid it forever.”

 

“What do you want me to do, Virge?” Patton sighed dejectedly, “I did the very thing I hate. I  _ yelled _ at Logan, because was trying to  _ help _ . I mean, who does that?!”

 

“Hey, it was an honest mistake,” Virgil shrugged, “but you gotta apologize.” 

 

“Yeah, right, like he’d talk to me…”

 

Virgil scoffed and hopped off the kitchen island. He grabbed the flour and the sugar containers and put them away in the pantry, “It’s Logan, he’ll listen.”

 

Patton turned off the water and shook his head. The bowls, only halfway clean, were left in the sink as Patton dried his hands and sat in one of the stools. Virgil needed to get Patton back to his usual self, to his cheery positive self. “He won’t… I––I really messed up. He trusted me, told me things he has never said to  _ anyone _ before, not even Mare, and I just… told him to shut up.”

 

“Technically, you  _ asked _ him to shut up,” Virgil mumbled and Patton chuckled sadly, “but he likes you. Might even say love you. He’s going to listen to you… and if you’re not ready––”

 

“I’m ready, Virgil, I tried.” Patton interrupted him, his eyes filling up with tears, “I went to his house a couple of hours after… everything, and he slammed the door on my face. Same the next day. And he hasn’t answered his phone either.” 

 

“Sounds familiar,” Virgil quipped sarcastically and narrowed his eyes at his brother. Patton looked away immediately, knowing that Virgil was talking about him. He was having way more patience with Patton than he had with Roman, but maybe it had to do with the fact that this was his brother. Or because he already yelled at Roman. Who knows. “You were an asshole,” Patton whined as he hid his face between his arms, “but you’re not always an asshole. I, in the other hand, am going to continue to be an as–”

 

“Do you have to use that word?”

 

Virgil chuckled, “sorry. I am going to be a butt,” he emphasized the last word, “and force you to go back to T.H.O.M.A.S.”

 

Patton peeked at Virgil between his arms and frowned, “I’m not in the mood for T.H.O.M.A.S., Virge.”

 

“I don’t care,” Virgil shrugged as he fished out a glass of water from the cabinets and filled it with water, “no one knows how to control crowds better than you, and I have reached my limit. So I’ll make you a deal, you go back or you man up and find a way to talk to Logan.”

 

It was the same thing. Virgil knew that if Logan did end up forgiving Patton, he would just go back to the club on his own. But they had only six days left, Virgil couldn’t bother himself to care about if a deal is fair or not. Patton had to go back to T.H.O.M.A.S. before Virgil screwed it up beyond a point of return.  

 

“I do this because I care,” Virgil mentioned as he placed the glass of water in front of Patton and patted his shoulder, “and because your moping around is a pain in my ass.”

 

He heard Patton chuckled as he left the kitchen and then a heavy sigh. Glancing over his shoulder, Virgil smiled as he noticed Patton grab his phone and start dialing. 


	22. Chapter 22

**MESSAGE TO** **_Prince of Dumbs_ **

**_How is it going?_ ** **(** **send** **) (delete)**

 

Virgil sent the text before grabbing his bike again and setting off. Turns out the bike was a great way to waste the extra energy he was building up with the stress from the show, also making it easier for him to fall asleep. This time, he was headed towards Logan’s house. 

 

**1 NEW MESSAGE FROM** **_Prince of Dumbs_ **

 

**Good. U? (** **reply** **)**

 

**_Not bad…_ ** **(** **send** **)**

**_Omw to Logan’s house_ ** **(** **send** **)**

 

**Why (** **repl** **y)**

 

**_Convinced you AND Patt to come back… gotta try Logan_ ** **(** **send** **)**

 

He at least had to try. The only problem was that with both Roman and Patton, Virgil had gone down the feelings road. Feelings didn’t work with Logan. The guy was analytic, a total left brain, tree diagrams, not emotions. He couldn’t give him the friends speech he gave to Roman or the wake up talk he kind of gave Patton, because Logan was the kind of person to politely tell him to fuck off and to leave him alone. 

 

**1 NEW MESSAGE FROM** **_Prince of Dumbs_ **

 

**whats this that ppl r talkin bout? cameras? (reply)**

 

Virgil screeched his bike into a stop, thankfully he wasn’t in the street. He was crossing a park with big trees that gave him a bit of shade. He pressed reply immediately.

 

**_???? (_ ** **send** **)**

 

**Yea. ppl say theres gonna be like national tv? (reply)**

 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

 

_ That’s _ the reason why Logan was so important to their team. Angelica had told them when they met up at Twits that, since it was the fifteen-years-anniversary, they were going to broadcast it nationally. Every opening night. He remembered Logan saying that he and Patton didn’t get to choose their opening night, that it was written down in the letter Kimms the previous year. Angelica had explained that it was because they couldn’t have every school open the same night, and how in Earth did Virgil forgot this. 

 

T.H.O.M.A.S. was going to be on national TV. Meaning that Virgil had to talk to the people of the TV, maybe even have someone ready to speak for the club, and find everything they needed. Damn it. 

 

**_ill take care of it, dont worry_ ** **(** **send** **)**

 

Virgil climbed on his bike and continued making his way to Logan’s house. It took him another twenty minutes to do so. His phone buzzed the whole trip too, messages from Roman asking about the national TV thing but Virgil just ignored them. He knocked on the door with the back of his knuckles before stepping back and looking around. It was a very nice neighborhood, with big houses ––not that he expected less given that Logan was, after all, the governor’s son–– and lush green grass. He knew that Mare was Logan’s neighbor, but he didn’t know which one of the two houses. 

 

The door opened to an elegant woman of thin face and light blue eyes. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a fancy updo and she stared at him through rectangular glasses. “Hello, Mrs. Oxford, I’m looking for Logan… he said he could help me with my physics homework.”

 

She hummed and looked at him up and down (goodness, Virgil was really starting to dislike the woman). She then gave him a tight small smile, which he guessed was supposed to be polite but was instead more like a grimace, “he’s currently at a friend’s house, but will be back in five minutes. You could wait for him in his room.”

 

“Thank you,” Virgil gave her a little nod and soon he was following Mrs. Oxford through the house. It was intimidatingly big. She opened a door and motioned for him to go inside. Without another word, Mrs. Oxford turned around and left. 

 

Logan’s room was very neat, but he guessed that with parents like that woman, he didn’t have much of an option. There was a desk against one of the walls and a bookshelf that arched over it covering the rest of the wall. His bed was navy blue with three single white pillows on it. There were some papers tacked to a corkboard in the wall; most were class related but he did find a picture in the midst of them. It was one that Patton had forced them to take one day. The four of them were smiling (some wider than others) at the camera; Patton’s arm was wrapped on Virgil’s shoulders while Roman did the same to Logan. Both Logan and Virgil had been chuckling exasperated when they took the picture. 

 

It had been his background for a while after they took it, and simply seeing it brought a smile to his face. Then his phone buzzed and the smile dropped. He spent the next ten minutes talking to Roman on the phone, somewhat whispering because he didn’t completely trust Mrs. Oxford to not eavesdrop. 

 

“What are you doing here?” 

 

Virgil turned around and noticed Logan crossing his arms in the doorway. “Uh, hi.”

 

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Oxford walked up behind Logan, making him stiffen up and stand straighter, “you’ll be alone. I don’t know what time I or your father come back. I trust you can feed yourself?” Virgil  _ did not _ like the condescending tone in that last question. 

 

“Yes, mother.”

 

Mrs. Oxford hummed and left. Logan didn’t speak up again until they both heard the car start and drive away. Virgil just watched him relax slightly, but the stone-cold face didn’t leave. “Leave.”

 

“No.” 

 

“Virgil––”

 

“No,” Virgil scoffed, shifting slightly on his feet, “you don’t answer anyone’s call, this is what you get.”

 

“I have no reasons nor needs to talk to you.”

 

He watched Logan come into his own room and walked directly to the bedside table and connecting his phone to the charger. Logan sat down on his bed and looked up at Virgil, unamused if not a bit desperate to get Virgil to go away. Good thing about spending so much time with the three Minett girls was that they taught him how to be annoying. “Look, I’m not gonna give you the same BS I gave the others. Truth is, T.H.O.M.A.S. needs you… I–I can’t do it without you…”

 

“Why? I clearly overstayed my welcome in the club.”

 

Virgil scoffed and shook his head, “Oh my––you––I, jesus.”

 

“Excellent speech. Now leave.”

 

Virgil glared at him and dropped his backpack next to the chair, as a way of relieving the weight from his aching shoulders and as a way of telling him that he was not going anywhere. “Patton said you didn’t know sarcasm, I’ll tell him later that it’s bullshit.” He noticed how Logan looked away at the mention of his brother’s name. So that was Logan’s pressure point for the topic. “Look, my brother was wrong at yelling at you ––especially that. Asshole move, I know. And he’s sorry.”

 

Logan shook his head as he glanced down at his feet. Virgil didn’t appreciate Logan rolling his eyes at him one bit. He looked like a petulant child, and Virgil was the younger one of the two. 

 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know that since you won’t talk to him…”

 

“I––”

 

“No.” Virgil stopped him by lifting a hand and shushing him, “he’s been calling you, even came here, and you slammed the door on his face… but it doesn’t matter. I’m not here for your weird relationship with my brother,” Logan snapped his head, probably out of instinct, to look out the door as if he was expecting his mother to come in again. “I thought that you’d want to know what’s been going on with T.H.O.M.A.S., y’know, since it’s also your club.”

 

“Virgil––”

 

“So, Roman never came back after running off the other day,” Virgil grabbed the desk’s chair and flipped it around to sit on it. He leaned back as he continued talking, “I had to drag him. Patton’s been basically depressed and I doubt he has slept or eaten at all this week, oh, he also stopped showing up to the rehearsals.” He moved his gaze from the ceiling to Logan and noticed that he stopped trying to interrupt him. Logan was hunched down, fiddling with the end of his tie, “as for you, you  _ also _ went MIA. And you’re smart, if three out of four people stop showing up, how many are there left?”

 

Logan didn’t answer right away but then seemed to realize it wasn’t a rhetorical question so he mumbled out a single, “one.”

 

“One.” Virgil repeated, “I’m not here blaming you, everyone has crises or whatever we want to call this, but I really need you to pull it together for a month. All I’m asking. Not even, three weeks.”

 

Logan looked up at him and shook his head. Virgil groaned frustrated and jumped from where he was sitting as he paced around the room. “I’m sorry, Virgil, but it’s still no.”

 

“I cannot believe you,” Virgil huffed and let his shoulder slump down. He was disappointed. Out of everyone, he had really thought Logan would be the smart one who could work with people he hated, “just because Patton was an idiot, doesn’t mean you have to send everything you ––we’ve worked on out the window.”

 

Logan also stood up and glared at him, angered. “It is  _ not _ because of Patton.”

 

Virgil huffed out a laugh, “you started T.H.O.M.A.S. for him and now you’re quitting because of him. Don’t tell me it’s not Patton.”

 

“It’s not Virgil.” 

 

The frustration with Logan was worse than the frustration he had felt with Roman or Patton. He stomped past and pulled the tack that was holding the picture before shoving it into his hands. “Mare said you liked challenges, and now you’re quitting because it got too hard? Don’t fucking lie to me.”

 

Logan stared down at the picture in his hands thoughtfully, “Mare told you that?”

 

“In the middle of cussing me and my entire family tree out, but yeah.” Virgil took a deep breath and went back to sit down in the chair, “I’m not asking you to make up with Patton and get married and have kids. I’m asking for your help with T.H.O.M.A.S. for three more weeks… after that, we see where everyone stands and we decide from there… but please, and I’m begging, help me out.”

 

Logan looked at him over his shoulder and nodded softly, “alright.”

 

“Ohthankgod,” Virgil breathed out and ran his hands through his hair, letting them rest at the back of his head. 

 

“What did I miss?” Before Virgil could answer, Logan’s phone rang. Virgil could see his brother’s name appear in the screen. Logan grabbed it and hovered his finger over the screen for a second before hanging up, “Not ready for that yet.”

 

“Fine by me, kind of. I have to listen to Patton cry but,” Virgil shrugged and chuckled, “so, remember the national TV?” Logan nodded and motioned him to continue talking as he sat down in his bed. He still held the picture in his left hand, “Good. Cause I forgot until Roman called today asking about it.”

 

Logan furrowed his brows and glanced at his phone. He quickly stood up startling Virgil as he gathered his phone, keys, and wallet. “They were supposed to meet with us today at six.”

 

Virgil glanced at his own phone and noticed the time. Fifteen minutes till six. Shit. 

 

“See?” Virgil gave him his most sarcastic smile as he too jumped up and grabbed his backpack, “this is what happens when you leave me unattended.”

 

The two arrived at the theater only ten minutes past six and thankfully the people they were supposed to meet weren’t there yet. They walked down the long aisles between the seats together. Virgil noticed Nannie hitting Roman’s arm and nodding towards them as they hurried towards the stage. Roman gave Virgil the ‘I’m impressed’ face making him chuckle. Logan in the other hand didn’t look up from his phone as he continued texting whoever he was talking to. 

 

Before they reached the stage, someone opened the door behind them and asked in a very confused voice, “Uh, there’s people looking for the manager?” The two turned to look at each other and turned around. Virgil sent a little shrug towards Roman who simply nodded and turned back to address the cast. The cast, once again, had the same energy it had during their first read through. 

 

Virgil rubbed his temple as they stepped into the lobby. In there was a man and a woman, both wearing suits and with messenger bags hanging from their shoulders. The woman looked at them and frowned, “I’m sorry, we’re looking for the manager of the play… do you know where he might be?”

 

He noticed immediately the small smug smirk that pulled at Logan’s lips, “I’m Logan Oxford, and this is one of my associates, Virgil Sanders.” Logan shook both of their hands as they looked at him with a bit of surprise, “You were looking for us?”

 

“Wait, Oxford? As in Governor Oxford?” The man asked with a little frown. Logan hummed to himself, seemingly disappointed.

 

“Will it change anything about our work together?”

 

“I mean, no, but––”

 

“Then there’s no need for an answer,” Logan gave the a polite smile and Virgil had to look down at his own shoes to hide the smile that was creeping up his own face. It was moments like these that Virgil could see why Patton was so in love with Logan. The guy was cool in his own unique way. “Shall we begin?”

 

The two adults nodded and started following them around. They walked up and down aisles, deciding where the prime spots for the broadcast would be. Virgil knew that the cast was more interested in what they were doing than the song they were practicing; he had to turn around and give them the stink eye more times than he wanted to admit. It also didn’t help that Patton came in somewhere through the meeting. 

 

His brother was talking to Roman, wide hand gestures and exaggerated faces. Neither Roman nor Virgil believed a second of the flamboyant act but Virgil had other things to focus on, such as when should they start filming for the opening night. Virgil turned around to continue talking to the man and woman ––he honestly couldn’t remember their names–– after giving the cast and now Patton his sixth stink eye; he immediately noticed that Logan’s attention was back at the stage rather than on the camera placement. He nudged his side slightly and he snapped back to talk business. That’s how they spent the next forty-five minutes. The TV people were leaving almost at the same time as the rest of the cast was.

 

There were so many hours they could ask of the cast to practice the show without tiring them to death. Virgil and Logan walked once again back down the aisle and met up with who Virgil had decided to coin as The Group (Roman, Patton, Nannie, Missy, Pranks, Remy, and Emile) which, the more he thought about, the more he realized how big that group was.

 

“Ah, Teach, how are you?”

 

“I’m well. Good to see you back here.”

 

“Ditto,” Roman chuckled awkwardly as he briefly glanced at Virgil.” 

 

“Patton,” Logan greeted him with a formal nod.

 

Patton gave him a little shy smile, “Hey, Lo.”

Logan surveyed the group and frowned at the sight of Missy, “what happened to your hair?”

 

Missy’s face immediately soured and pouted. Virgil’s face went bright red as he looked away, taking in the details of the infrastructure of the  _ Le Rég. _ He hadn’t actually paid attention to them but they were beautiful, kind of like those in Notre Dame. “It was Freckles’ fault.” Roman teased winning a teasing glare from Virgil. He had forgotten to wear concealer that day and Roman had made sure to mention it as soon as they met up earlier. 

 

“I’m gonna punch.”

 

“Wanna fight? I’ll fight you,” Roman raised his fists, obviously joking so Virgil just rolled his eyes. 

 

Missy sighed and shook her head, “am I the only one straight here?”

 

“I’m straight!” Nannie whined. Virgil, Roman, and the twins turned to look at him doubtfully, “I am.”

 

“Everyone saw you checking Dee out, my guy,” Pranks shrugged. Nannie’s cheeks flared up red as he tried to defend himself only making everyone laugh at him. He crossed his arms and looked away as the blush creeped down his neck. 

 

“He’s a hot dude, what can I say?” Nannie mumbled and Missy shook her head. Virgil looked around his group of friends, or whatever they were at the moment. Remy’s arm was lazily hugging Emile’s waist, Missy was exasperated by them, Pranks and Roman were teasing Nannie, while Logan and Patton just avoided each other’s gaze yet kept stealing glances like the useless gays they proved to be. 

 

Virgil never wanted to jinx things by saying that things were finally good, but in moments like these he really thought they were close to everything being good. There was the fight between Logan and Patton, and the stress of everyone with their own families, and the fact that Missy was now a brunette… but there were so many things that Virgil could list easily that it almost made those problems worth it. He was almost done with his Freshman year, which he had started worrying that he wouldn’t have any friends and now he was surrounded by them. They were having fun, expanding Whyte’s horizons into the art world. It was just mind blowing how much had happened in a year. It gave him a warm feeling, something that was so unique he couldn’t describe as the opposite of anxiety.

 

Virgil, somehow, managed to quiet them down and slowly they fell into silence. “Ok, we still have basically five days and a shit-ton to do.” He glanced at each, “we’re in the final stage.”

 

Roman frowned, “Was… was that a pun?”

 

“Absolutely.” Virgil grinned at Roman, “Now get moving.” 

 

Missy rolled her eyes before scoffing, “great, you broke Roman.” Virgil noticed that Roman wasn’t looking at him anymore, but he simply dismissed it as Roman being annoyed at his pun. “I am going to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Ditto,” Pranks and Nannie answered in unison and chuckled. They soon left, along with Remy and Emile. The stage fell soon into silence, somewhat awkward, until Patton twisted his backpack around to grab something from his little pocket.

 

“So, uh,” Patton fished out three little rectangles of paper and fiddled with them as he swung his backpack back, “I know… we’re not in the best place, right now...  and I–I know it’s my fault,” Patton glanced up at Logan but quickly averted his eyes, “but you’re still all important to me, and uh, I’d love if you could go to my graduation.”

 

“I don’t really have an option,” Virgil teased as he bumped his shoulder against his brother’s making Patton smile. 

 

“Of course, Patt,” Roman grinned as Patton handed him a ticket. Roman quickly slipped it between his phone and his phone case, patting it as soon as he put it back on his pocket. 

 

“Logan?” Patton looked at him shyly. Logan sighed and nodded, taking the ticket from Patton’s extended hand. Patton beamed like the sun at the little action. Virgil and Roman rolled their eyes at each other and snickered quietly. “Thank you.” 

 

“You’re welcome. Now, I do have to go…” Logan walked past Patton, pressing a quick kiss to Patton’s forehead and continued walking until a couple of feet away he turned around, “Virgil?”

 

Virgil raised his eyebrows, still confused from the sudden show of affection from the same guy who had said wasn’t ready earlier that day, “Yeah?” 

 

“Your bike is still in my car.”

 

“Oh, yeah. I need that.”


	23. Chapter 23

To say that Roman was nervous was an understatement. Helena drove him to the theater and spent the whole way there making fun of how much his knee was bobbing as he also fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt. She tried calming him down by saying that even if he screwed up no one would notice; that only made it worse when he remembered they were going to be broadcasted in national TV. T.H.O.M.A.S. was a surprise after surprise even after all this time. 

 

When he crossed the Cast Only door, he was immediately met with the crew bustling around in a panic. Not exactly a good sign, but considering the circumstances, it kind of made sense. The cast was already warming up their voices, the crew was moving things around, and… Logan was hurrying his way.

 

“How, in the world, do you manage to be late for your own show?” Logan motioned with the black clipboard he was holding.

 

Roman smiled at him innocently as the two sped-walk towards the changing rooms. Roman was still wearing what he wore to school earlier that day; he would’ve changed had he not fallen asleep right after school. Logan was clearly disappointed but there was a little amused smirk no one could deny. “I fell asleep.”

 

“You’re a disaster…”

 

“Thank you, I try very hard,” Logan snorted quietly before shaking his head and furrowing his brows. 

 

“Just hurry up.” Logan turned around and continued checking stuff off the list he had attached to the clipboard. Roman had absolutely no idea what was in that list but he knew Logan liked making lists ––it relaxed him or something–– so he didn’t mentioned it before he changed into Thomas’ clothes. He absolutely hated the brown jacket he and Remy had chosen; the elastic cuffs of the sleeves were a bit too loose on the wrist and the last of pressure there was disorienting. The shirt wasn’t bad. It was a nice red-pink-ish color (he was sure that there was a specific color for it but he didn’t bother looking it up) with a big yellow star in the middle. He planned on getting it signed by the cast after their last night and maybe frame it. His first real show. 

 

There were two knocks on the door before it swung open as he put the jacket on. Remy was crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.”

 

“Good,” Remy scoffed before he motioned him to turn around. Roman complied and Remy started to set up his mic, attaching it to the back of his jacket. He left the actual mic-part, the one that had to be hidden by his hair, hanging around his neck. They didn’t need to start the hair and makeup bit until later so Remy would finish setting the mic up later. “Don’t make it a habit.”

 

“Not all of us have caffeine for blood,” Remy flicked his ear and Roman chuckled, squirming away from Remy. Remy shook his head and flicked down the sunglasses before making his way out. Remy without his dramatic antics was not Remy… Roman finally understood what Virgil thought of him. 

 

“Just go warm up before the other three freak out on you.” 

 

When he joined the rest of the cast, they were all standing in separate circles, divided by roles. The extras were in a circle chanting the steps of each dance routine, almost like a ritual, while the not-extras-but-not-leads were in a circle singing old camping songs to warm up. Missy, Pranks, Dee, and Nannie, in the other hand, were simply talking in a circle. He stood between Dee and Nannie, chuckling as the twins noticed him and gave him the stink eye before Nannie and Dee. 

 

“You’re late.”

 

“I am  _ fashionably _ late.”

 

Dee shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, “and he’s our lead character?”

 

“And writer,” Roman scoffed as he bump his shoulder against Dee’s, “don’t forget that.”

 

“How could I?”

 

They all laughed before they started warming up. They did silly little tongue-twisters, and songs, and practiced songs from the show until they all felt satisfied with their voices. They were a great team, had been since day one. It was interesting because back before they were doing auditions, even back when he was writing the musical with Virgil, there were moments when Roman feared they would never get a good cast. That because Whyte was such a technology-science-math type of school, they would never find people who would be willing to be part of T.H.O.M.A.S., and those willing would realize that seventeen shows was a lot of time without including rehearsals and workshops. He knew Virgil and Logan had similar fears when they were putting up the posters for the auditions. Patton never seemed to think about that, but then again, Patton was the positive one; perhaps he  _ had _ thought them but just never said it. Who knew with that guy. Now, a couple of months later, Roman was singing songs that he co-wrote, for a show that he wrote, with great friends and even greater actors/actresses. 

 

“Okay,” Remy interrupted Roman’s thoughts startling him, “Missy! Hair time!” 

 

Roman frowned as Remy led Missy away. They still had another hour before anyone needed to get makeup and hair done. “It takes them like forty-five minutes to get her hair done.”

 

“Because of the… spray?” They nodded in unison and Roman let out a low whistle, “I am so sorry for designing her costume like that then.”

 

“Just hope she doesn’t become a brunette forever,” Pranks smirked at him and Roman’s eyes widened. If Missy’s hair didn’t go back to normal, Roman and Virgil would have to start planning their funerals. Out of everyone in the cast, Missy was ––without a doubt–– the scariest. If she had a superpower, it’d be death. Nannie patted his head, gaining only an offended scoff from Roman. 

 

“No.” He ducked away from Nannie, who simply laughed, “Don’t. I’mma go see Virgil and––”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dee waved him off as he smirked at Roman, “you don’t need to make excuses to go see your boyfriend.”

 

Roman’s cheeks quickly burned up, which he ignored as he turned to look at Dee, “Virgil is not my boyfriend.”

 

“Yeah, right. Logan and Patton are also ‘not’ dating.” Pranks scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.

 

“Not officially, no.”

 

The three frowned, seemingly taken aback, “really?”

 

“Yeah, huge fight and… kinda my fault, but… not official.”

 

Dee hummed and smirked again, “so like you and Virgil?”

 

Roman flipped him off and walked away as the three started laughing like idiots. It wasn’t hard to spot Virgil as he stood next to the sound console. He was talking to the sound technician, some dude that Roman called Dude because he kept forgetting his name, looking every bit of nervous Roman had expected. He came to stand next to Virgil, who gave him a brief smirk before he continued talking, and Roman just listened quietly. Without stopping the conversation, Virgil tapped his arm and motioned him towards the entrance where Patton was struggling with two boxes.

 

Roman hurried towards his friend, taking one of the boxes from his arms with ease and a smile. “Thank you,” Patton huffed out a chuckle and lead Roman towards a table in the back. 

 

“What is in this?” Roman wondered and Patton opened the one Roman had carried. It was filled with water bottles. The other one had different kinds of foods; cookies, cakes, sandwiches, among other things. “Ooh! I like this.”

 

Patton laughed and motioned him to walk with him back out, “we have more boxes.”

 

“We?”

 

“It was Logan’s idea,” Patton explained. Out of everyone, Logan had been the last person Roman expected to come up with that idea. It wasn’t that the guy wasn’t creative, he had given some pretty good ideas, but at the same time Roman had kind of expected that Logan would avoid Patton at all costs given the situation. 

 

“You two made up?”

 

“Nope,” Patton sighed as they reached Logan’s car. The trunk was open and had another three boxes in there. “It’s… just business. He still hates me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Roman sighed as he grabbed two boxes, “it’s my fault you two fought… If I hadn’t left you––”

 

“Ro?” Patton interrupted as he closed the trunk with one hand, the other holding the third box, “shut up.” He chuckled. The two began making their way inside again after locking the car. The boxes weren’t exactly light, so the two were basically speed-walking inside. “It was gonna happen sooner or later anyways…”

 

“Still.”

 

“It was your sister,” Patton reasoned with him. The only problem was that Roman could easily see the sadness behind Patton’s eyes. The guy was obviously very much in love with Logan, and clearly regretted everything that he did, so Roman couldn’t help feeling bad. “How is she by the way?”

 

“Still kicking… she broke a couple of bones but the guy who… hit her felt so bad he paid for everything.” 

 

“That’s good!” Patton cheered before stopping and looking at Roman, “not that he, y’know, hit her but––”

 

Roman laughed as they set the boxes down on the table, “don’t worry, I gotcha.” They started setting the table up. Roman was taking out the water bottles and putting them in one side while Patton organized the food by type. The two continued talking about trivial things, it was mainly Patton talking but Roman couldn’t exactly complain. It was a nice distraction from the nervousness that was building up as the minutes ticked by. He had noticed Remy starting to pull people aside to do their hair and makeup, and that had brought back his fidgeting back. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Roman glanced up at Patton and nodded, “Yeah, of course.”

 

Patton chuckled as the two walked towards the other lead actors/actresses, “nervous?”

 

“A bit,” he admitted with a bashful chuckle. He ran his hand through his hair and chuckled, “okay, more than a bit. It’s just…”

 

“National TV?”

 

“I was going to say Young Theater but yeah, that too,” Roman shrugged before they joined the group’s conversation. They were talking about video games, some of which Patton apparently knew by heart but Roman had never heard of, mainly to distract themselves. Missy’s bright orange hair was startling but she looked very good with it. It seemed very her. Roman, knowing that she hated the hair spray, didn’t mention that to her. 

 

Roman flinched as an arm hugged his waist but relaxed as he noticed it was just Virgil. He passed an arm around his shoulder bringing the younger boy closer. They had been doing this more often lately; whenever one was getting to anxious (Virgil) or started to overthink the little things of the show (Roman) they do this. It helped both, but it was a thing neither mentioned out loud because it’d make things weird. This time, Roman noticed Dee and Nannie smirked at him, making kissy motions whenever Virgil looked away to talk to his brother. Roman only stuck his tongue out at them but otherwise did nothing else to stop them. Instead, he brought his hand up to play mindlessly with Virgil’s hair, smirking at the two teasing friends. 

 

“Roman?” Remy called him as he walked out of the changing rooms with Pranks. Roman looked past his and Virgil’s shoulders and noticed Remy lifting his sunglasses. Ok, he could deal with Dee and Nannie’s teasing, but he wasn’t so sure he could deal with Remy. “Let’s go.”

 

Roman nodded and let go of Virgil, patting his head lightly without thinking much of the action. He glanced at his phone and his heart stopped. They had an hour until show time, meaning that in only fifteen minutes, people would start showing up. It wasn’t until he thought of this that he noticed the buzz that was going on backstage. Everyone was all over the place. 

 

“So,” Remy started as he began fixing Roman’s microphone between his strands of hair.

 

“Don’t.” Remy laugh but didn’t say anything else. It took almost ten minutes for Remy to finish doing Roman’s hair and makeup. Five minutes until the doors opened. He knew that Virgil had spent the last few hours checking every microphone, every speaker, every light, and console. Patton had spent that same time preparing the snack table, helping people with their scenes, answering questions, and overall calming every one down. Logan had–– where was Logan? “Have you seen Logan?”

 

“He’s with the TV dudes… setting up cameras and basically making sure the idiots don’t break anything.”

 

Roman chuckled, “Idiots?”

 

“His words, not mine.”

 

Of course. Logan hadn’t been very happy with the representatives the company had sent a week ago, or so said Virgil, so it didn’t really surprise Roman. Remy finally let him go and, given that he was the last one, everyone immediately entered a panic frenzy when they saw him come out. Patton tried to calm everyone down, telling them to continue practicing their songs and dances. Roman also tried to calm people down, going over dance routines with them, while Virgil did one more round of checking everyone’s microphones. This meant for him to tap everyone’s mic and look at the sound technician to give him a thumbs up. 

 

They were fine. Nothing to worry about. Roman was fine, he could do this. He knew the show like the back of his hand. He knew every song, every tune, every word. He could recite every song (except Missy’s rap) like poems back and forth. Nothing to worry about… They would be perfect. 

 

Virgil would start the music and at the third chord the curtain would raise and at the fifth chord Roman had to start singing. Patton would stand to the side with the script in hand, motioning for the characters and crew to move, and Logan would stand with Virgil. There wasn’t much for Logan to do during the show; before and after, that was his time. He was going to be the one presenting the show, talking to the press along with Patton, and was the one to get Angelica and the other judges backstage after the show so they could chat with everyone. 

 

They had fifteen minutes left before Logan had to present the show when said guy entered the backstage, pale and wide eyed. Roman immediately stopped practicing and hurried towards his friend; Virgil and Patton must’ve seen the same because soon the three were standing around him. Logan was wearing a black suit ––including the shirt–– and a blue tie, something Roman hadn’t seen him wear since… well before spring break. He had been dressing more casually for a while until the fight but it was still disconcerting for Roman whenever he saw the blue tie. 

 

“Dude, are you okay?” Virgil asked and Logan finally met their eyes. He looked panicked, like he was about to run away at the smallest noise. Roman had seen this look in Logan only once before; back at the library when they were talking about Patton and he noticed his parents’ friends. 

 

“My parents are here.”

 

They all looked at each other, loss at words. Helena had always been supportive of them with T.H.O.M.A.S., and the brothers’ parents had never been a problem other than to the brothers’ mental health, but Logan’s parents? They had always been wary of them. They knew that if they found out, Logan would be pulled out the club. They were assholes like that. “What?”

 

“They––They said they had to attend… some business tonight, so I thought… I didn’t think–– think that this was that–– business.” Logan ran his hand through his hair nervously, messing it up slightly. 

 

“What do you want to do then?”

 

“I––– I don’t want to lose T.H.O.M.A.S...” Logan whispered on the brink of a panic attack and it broke Roman’s heart to see the man who was always pulled together like this.

 

“Okay, uh,” Patton muttered and looked between them before turning to face Logan directly, “you don’t have to present. You can stay back here until we bring Angelica in and Roman or I can present or––”

 

Logan shook his head softly. He took a deep breath and fixed his tie. Roman squeezed his shoulder reassuringly winning a thankful little smile from the panicking guy. “No. Thank you, but I have to face them…”

 

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked doubtfully, “your mom at least is…”

 

“I know,” Logan glanced down at his shoes before shaking his head and taking another deep breath. He pushed his glasses up his nose and stood straighter. Then he turned to Roman with a smug smirk, similar to the one he had when he first showed them the boxes of papers that was the club. “Let’s show them what T.H.O.M.A.S. can do.”

 

Virgil chuckled and shook his head, “you’re a big ol’ nerd.”

 

“Proudly,” Logan answered. They each went their own way, but Roman noticed how Patton fixed Logan’s hair without hesitation and then left Logan flustered by the curtain. The minutes after that ticked quickly by. The noise that had accumulated by the audience was loud enough to distract everyone who tried to practice a song. They were all trying to take a peek past the the curtain but Roman, Patton, and Virgil stopped them successfully. Sure, they also wanted to do that, but it wouldn’t look very professional to do so and given that they were going to be on TV and judged, they needed to be as professional as possible. 

 

Patton called everyone to their positions (everyone except Roman and the twins was waiting in the wings; Roman and the twins were all sitting in chairs, simulating a school classroom) and once they all were, he handed Logan an old fashioned microphone and a reassuring smile. Logan nodded thankful and walked out the curtains. They couldn’t see him, but they could hear him perfectly. This was real, this was happening. Roman grinned as he started speaking.  

 

_ Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Today the theatrical and historic organization for modern alliances for students, also knowns as T.H.O.M.A.S., welcomes you to  _ A Boy with Internet.  _ This musical has been made possible by our students at Whyte High School. It was written by one of our own, Roman Minett; composed by Virgil Sanders; and directed by Patton Sanders. We also wanted to acknowledge and thank two women who have helped us and supported us through this year-long process; Angelica Ta-Nehisi and Helena Minett. This is for you, we hope you like it.  _

 

The grin that broke in Roman’s face was nothing compared to the feeling that blossomed in his chest. He didn’t know Logan was going to dedicate the show to Helena and, jokes aside, Roman felt like crying happy tears because of it. He also noticed Virgil nodded like it made sense to the side and Patton smiling as well. 

 

The lights that shone through the curtains dimmed and he waited for the music to start. When five seconds in silence went by, he noticed Virgil whispering back and forth with the sound technician panicking. The music wasn’t working. 

 

Oh, god. The music wasn’t working. They should’ve gotten a band, but no, Roman had decided to not trust how good they would be. Goddammit. 

 

Before the minute mark passed, Virgil growled frustrate and looked around. Giving Roman a soft shrug as if saying ‘I don’t know’. The rest of the cast started whispering quietly to each other; at least the mics were working because their whispers were echoing through the speakers. Virgil looked around and immediately brightened up; he whispered something to the sound technician who quickly scurried somewhere as Virgil pulled something from the ground that Roman couldn’t quite see. 

 

Virgil then turned and Roman’s eyes widened. He was holding Helena’s guitar, something that Roman thought was now stowed away under Helena’s dresser. The sound technician scurried back to him and connected a cable to Helena’s guitar. Virgil motioned as if he was going to start playing and Roman nodded before looking back at the front. The whispering was still going on, it was low and too much so the audience wasn’t able to figure out what they were saying (hopefully). Virgil played the three first chords and the curtain raised.

 

Roman waited two more chords and started singing. The whispering stopped immediately as he started and soon, the show began. 

 

There were no hitches after that. By the time they finished the first song, the sound technician had found the problem and the rest of the show they did with the recording. For the first time, not a single team fell behind a dance routine, and everyone hit their marks when they needed to. Roman didn’t register a single forgotten line. It was like the gods of theater had decided that they had given them too much shit throughout the year and now this was their prize. 

 

The curtain fell as the crowd applauded vigorously and the cast panted from the last song. As soon as the sound technician gave them the thumbs up ––a way of telling them that the mics were finally off–– they all cheered and broke into groups with which they would bow with. The first group was all the extras, then the crew, then the lead-not-leads, then Remy with Emile (and everyone involved in the recording of the music), then the leads. Roman stood there, holding hands with a twin in each side as they held Nannie’s or Dee’s hands. They bowed, grinning widely and proudly, before the four broke away from Roman, leaving him alone in the middle of the stage. Missy pushed Virgil into stage as Pranks and Nannie pushed the other two. Soon, the four original members stood in the stage, each with wide grins. 

 

The curtain finally fell after a while and Patton pulled them all into a hug. Logan was the first to laugh before the four ended up in a fit of laughter. They were too excited, buzzing with too much energy, to even speak words so they didn’t for another five minutes. Once they calmed down, Roman turned to look at Virgil, “what happened at the start?”

 

“We were so worried about the mics,” Virgil chuckled, “that we forgot to plug in the USB with the music.”

 

“Oh my…” Roman snickered, “and the guitar?”

 

“I thought he should have it,” a voice answered from behind the group. Roman whipped around and noticed his mother, followed by his three little sisters.

 

“Well, thank god you did,” Roman chuckled and hugged his mother excitedly. Soon his sisters were also hugging his legs ––well, Sandra was doing as best as she could since she was stuck to the wheelchair. “What are you doing here?”

 

“You thought we would miss the opening night?”

 

Roman pursed his lips, “Now that you say it…”

 

“You were all great,” Helena complimented the other three as well as Roman went back to standing with his friends. He knew they were far from short, and that as soon as the excited left, he would crash completely but for now, he was savoring the excitement. “Also, thank you for the dedication, Logan.”

 

“You deserved it,” Logan gave her a smile, “for putting up with these two.”

 

Helena laughed, throwing her head back. Virgil picked Margarita up as the girl was going on and on about how good the show was. Eliza was talking as excitedly with Sandra. Before anyone could say anything, another woman approached them. Angelica Ta-Nehisi. 

 

“Hello, boys,” she grinned as she got closer, “that was… incredible! When you said you had a good show, I didn’t expect this.” 

 

Virgil chuckled, setting Margarita down, “we did tell you.”

 

Angelica nodded with a chuckle, “you did.” Helena whispered Roman a  _ we’ll see you later _ , and soon she was pulling the three girls away. It was in that moment that he noticed the cameramen and reporter that were walking in. He nudged Virgil and motioned towards the cameras and Virgil passed the message by nudging his brother as well. “I have to say, the whole whispering thing before the music sure builds up the excitement.”

 

The four looked at each before nodding in unison towards Angelica. Of course it was planned… of course… it wasn’t a mistake… Roman had to write down the idea to do it for the next performances. The reporter soon arrived by their side and started to interview them. Angelica stood behind the cameras, nodding and smiling proudly. 

 

_ We have a question for you, Angelica _ , the reporter had said as the cameraman turned towards Angelica, _ did you like the show? _

 

“Of course, did you watch it?” Roman felt his cheeks flare up and a teasing jab to his ribs from Virgil. The creator of Young Theater, a known scriptwright, was complimenting their show. “I’m glad that Whyte finally has some artists. When I was a student there, we barely had theater classes…”

 

“ _ You _ went to Whyte?” Logan blurted out before covering his mouth embarrassedly. Angelica laughed and nodded. 

 

“It’s why I started Young Theater. Maybe if schools saw that it was a competition, even schools like Whyte would be interested in starting art programs.” 

 

Roman didn’t know how to react. Part of him wanted to just gape at him but the other side reminded him they were on national TV, and that it would look weird. He shook his head and just chuckled, “you are so cool.”

 

Angelica laughed and thanked him. Virgil coughed out a discreet  _ nerd _ next to him as the reporter asked another question to Logan and Patton. The interview lasted a couple more minutes before they thanked them and moved on to interviewing them individually. They pulled Virgil first to the side to ask him about the music. Roman noticed his hands were shaking so he kept close. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he heard Patton whisper as he slightly pulled Logan to the side. Roman could still hear them, but pretended not to though it was harder than he expected, “for yelling at you and… saying things that I shouldn’t have.”

 

“Patt––”

 

“No, let me finish okay.” Patton breathed out as he wrung his hands, “I––– you’re too important to me to lose you, and if it means you don’t like me anymore like… like that, it’s okay. I rather have you as a friend than not having you at all…” Roman’s heart twisted at that. He wasn’t eavesdropping, no, that’s rud–––okay, fine, he was. But it was just too cute to ignore. “I really hope you can fo–––”

 

Logan interrupted him by grabbing him by the waist and pulling him into a kiss. Patton’s eyes flew wide open for a second before he close them and snaked his arms around Logan’s neck. Roman barely stopped a squeal from escaping his lips, so he turned around to let them kiss in peace. By turning around he noticed that they were in Virgil’s shot. The camera was picking everything up. Roman turned to look at the couple, as they leaned away both with wide lovestruck smiles and cleared his throat. Patton turned to look at Roman who nodded to the camera. As it registered in his brain, Patton squeaked and hid in Logan’s chest, though Logan didn’t noticed as he stared in front of him.

 

Roman followed his gaze and saw the approaching stern-looking governor and wife. 

 

Instinctively, Roman walked up to stand next to him, ready to fight the governor if needed. “Father, Mother, what are you doing here?” 

 

Patton stepped next to Logan, seemingly as ready as Roman, and intertwined their hands. Mr. Oxford stepped forward making Logan instinctively stepped back. The man was raging. Virgil had told Roman before about how much he had hated those brief minutes he had with Mrs. Oxford, how rude she was, but he didn’t know how much of an ass was Mr. Oxford. Roman didn’t like one bit how much the man was making it sound as if Logan had been the one to make the mistake. “How dare you? How dare you go against what we have taught you, against our word, and then show it to the public?! And then we find you being a fucking fag wit——”

 

Logan scoffed and stepped closer to his father, “Are you really going to yell at me in national TV?” 

 

Roman noticed that Virgil was standing now next to him and that the cameraman was pointing the camera at the governor and Logan. Roman had to force away the smirk that was pulling at his lips; Logan was not one to tolerate BS and boy was it entertaining to watch.

 

“You expect me to hate theater because you do so, well, I don’t. It’s actually quite entertaining,” Logan’s voice was steady, but Roman noticed immediately how nervous he was as he started to basically rant, “you also expect me to be straight, because you are, but I’m not. I’m gay, and have been since I was thirteen. You can disrespect me all you want, but you will not insult my boyfriend.”

 

Mr. Oxford and Mrs. Oxford were just staring at him wide-eyed, glancing at the camera every couple of seconds. They were just baffled into silence. So were his friends, but it was a different bafflement. It was more of an amazed baffled. 

 

Mrs. Oxford cleared her throat and stood straighter, something Roman had seen Logan do multiple times before, “We will discuss this at home, Logan.”

 

“Not really, but if it’ll make you happy, sure.”

 

Without another word, the couple turned around and walked away as proper as they could. As soon as they walked through the door, Logan visibly deflated. Roman clapped his back and Logan chuckled and smiled tiredly at him. Patton, in the other hand, wasn’t as calm as Roman and instead jumped to hug him by the neck. 

 

Virgil chuckled next to Roman, “Damn you imagine someone asking him how he came out?”

 

Roman’s eyes widened as he snickered. He imitated Logan by fixing an imaginary tie, “Oh, I came out to my parents in national TV.” Virgil started giggling uncontrollably and Roman soon followed. Angelica, who had watched everything, managed to pull the reporter away from the scene before sending a wink towards Roman. God, that lady was so cool. 

 

Patton pecked Logan’s lips a couple of times, bringing out a chuckle from Logan, before he let go and addressed the cast and crew. “Everyone! Make a circle!” He then motioned for Roman, Virgil, and Logan to followed him towards the snack table. It still hadn’t been touched in the thirty or so minutes that had gone by. 

 

There was still a buzz going around the room, though it was much less than it had been right after the show. Roman helped Patton hand out water bottles, thing they should’ve done way before, and once everyone had a bottle, Patton addressed the crowd again. “I wanted to thank you for auditioning, and spending so many hours cooped up in our small stage, and for being so cool. There is only so much four dudes can do. And I wanted to do a toast, for every technological problem that brought us here.” 

 

The crowd chuckled but they all raised their bottles, “Cheers!”

 

“And for us,” Patton turned to look at Roman, Virgil, and Logan, “to our parents’ fucked up lives.” 

 

Virgil started giggling next Roman, covering his mouth to stop it but failing miserably. Roman looked at Logan, chuckling as well, before looking at Virgil, and in unison the three raised their bottles and clinking them together. 

 

“Patton! Don’t cuss.” 

 

 

 

**_The End... well, for us._ **


End file.
